


i'm ready to die holding your hand

by fingerprintbruises, maichan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (not Steve for these last 3 tags), 40s!Bucky, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - The Last of Us (Video Games) Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Animals only die as a food source, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Child Death, Ephebophilia, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, Implied Sex Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Minor Riley/Sam Wilson, Nomad Steve Rogers, Oral Sex, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Past Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov/Clint Barton, Road Trips, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Suicide, The Last of Us AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 97,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingerprintbruises/pseuds/fingerprintbruises, https://archiveofourown.org/users/maichan/pseuds/maichan
Summary: Ten years after the outbreak of the Cordyceps fungus, an infection that causes humans to attack one another, and five years after his tumultuous separation from SHIELD, Steve is coaxed into taking on the unwelcome task of delivering Bucky to SHIELD outside the military run quarantine zone he resides in. When the delivery goes sideways and new information comes to light, Steve must again disregard his five-year-old promise to never work for SHIELD and take Bucky further than he ever desired.This is the story of Steve and Bucky's dangerous, yearlong journey across an apocalyptic US, fighting the infected and old enemies, all while trying to bring hope to the world.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 55
Kudos: 124
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. The Quarantine Zone

**Author's Note:**

> PHEW, okay, here's me coming in at the last minute with my first chapter of my NASBB fic! And my second posted Stucky fic!
> 
> This is my longest fic at about 95k words (I will never write this much again, and if I do, please someone slap me), and was a labor of love. I almost don't want to release it into the world anymore, but I do hope someone else enjoys it! This is a fic based on the video game The Last of Us. No knowledge of the game is required and is perhaps even encouraged. This fic follows the original story line pretty closely for the first two chapters, but it will start to deviate more in the later chapters.
> 
> For those wondering, regarding the age difference, Bucky is 20 and Steve is in his mid-30s. If you have any questions on the tags, please feel free to send me an anon at my [tumblr](https://bubbabuck.tumblr.com/).
> 
> First, many thanks to my artists [maichan](https://maichan808.tumblr.com) and [cassandrasfisher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandrasfisher) for the wonderful pieces of art they made for my fic! They're all so beautiful. Mai, thank you for taking on many tasks for this fic: fleshing out my fic with me, being a sounding board, betaing where you could, and sticking around through my end run dash to get this fic completed. You're a star!
> 
> Second, many thanks to [E-Greer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Greer) and [Neonbat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat) for betaing for me. Thank you, Neon for your work on the first two chapters and giving me the feedback I needed to hear. E, so many thank yous for taking up the mantle at the last minute and betaing the entirety of this fic in a matter of days. I don't know how I could ever properly thank you. So, of course, here's my usual disclaimer of all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Third, thank you to [jehans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehans) for cheerleading me and helping me out with my summary!
> 
> Fourth, a huge thank you to the mods of NASBB for making my first foray into the Stucky fandom such a great experience! Thank you for making a fun and safe environment. You all put a lot of work into this bang and I appreciate very bit of it.
> 
> Lastly, thanks to you for opening this fic and reading this whole A/N, I hope you enjoy the fic! ❤️

### 

### 

Steve startled awake to the sound of his neighbor’s door slamming shut. His accelerated heart slowed to a normal pace once his body realized there was no threat looming.

Because he had forgotten to close the curtains before passing out, his bedroom was filled with sunlight. The summer sun made the air inside the room stale and stuffy, and by the amount of light, he could tell it was midday. 

The sun only served to illuminate the shabbiness of the room. The bed contained threadbare stained sheets, and the dresser exhibited signs of extensive wear and tear. The wood floors were deeply scratched and the small rug beside the bed was nothing more than a piece of cloth now.

With a sigh, Steve sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The ancient mattress springs squealed under the weight of his movements. He rubbed his eyes to get rid of the overnight crust.

Steve glanced at the clock on the bedside table.

_11:18 A.M._

He frowned. His friends, Natasha and Clint, should’ve been back by now. The job was a milk run. Deliver the pills and get the ration cards.

Of course, not everything was so easy these days.

Steve dressed himself quickly. He pulled on sturdy blue jeans and a navy and black flannel with the sleeves rolled up. Unconsciously, he adjusted the thick bracelet on his right wrist that had shifted up his arm in his sleep before shoving his feet into his boots.

After a quick trip to the restroom to relieve himself and rinse his mouth with five-year-old mouthwash, he moved through the cramped, one bedroom apartment toward the door. A familiar knock rapped on it before he could reach it.

Steve ripped opened the door to reveal Natasha and Clint. Natasha had a smudge of dirt on her jaw and her red hair slightly ruffled. Clint looked a little rougher. Bruises were already forming on his cheek and along his arms, and there was a two-inch long cut on his left cheek that was deep enough to warrant a bit of worry. However, while Clint looking disheveled was nothing to write home about, Natasha never looked anything less than put together at any given moment. Altogether, it was enough to give Steve cause for concern.

“Was just about to look for you two. Run into trouble?” Steve asked as he stepped back to let them in.

Clint grunted and went to pick up a rag off the kitchen counter to press against his cut.

“With the drop? No,” Natasha replied, pulling a stack of ration cards from her jean pocket and tossing them onto the dining table. “Those should last us a month.”

She proceeded into the kitchen to grab a bottle of vodka from the cabinet while Steve picked up the ration cards and shuffled through them; they looked legit. Natasha took a swig directly from the bottle before turning to Clint. She took the towel away from him and wet it with the alcohol before applying it to the cut. Clint flinched, but she grabbed his chin and pressed the towel back insistently.

“So, what happened?” Steve asked.

“We were jumped by four assholes on the way back,” Clint said. Natasha hummed in agreement and grimaced slightly. She never liked it when someone got the drop on her.

Clint took over holding the towel to his face.

“And are these assholes still with us?” Steve leaned causally against the kitchen table.

“Who do you think we are?” Natasha replied with a smirk. Her expression sobered. “You’ll never guess who sent them.”

“That guessing game could go on all day,” Steve joked humorlessly.

Natasha crossed her arms. “It was Jasper.”

Steve’s brows rose. “Our Jasper?”

“He knows we’re after him, so he’s trying to get to us first.”

“Shit, how the hell does he know that?” Steve sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Fucking rat.”

“Not a very smart one, thankfully,” Natasha said as she stepped toward Steve and swiped the ration cards from his hand. “We found out where he’s hiding.”

“Do you trust the source?”

“A man bet his life on it and the location makes sense, so, yes, I do.”

“Where is he?” Steve asked as he stood up straight.

“Old warehouse in Area Five.”

Steve headed to the door and grabbed the backpack on the floor beside it. “You both good to go?”

“Course we are,” Clint scoffed as he tossed the soiled rag onto the counter. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”

*

Steve had only visited Boston once when he was young, but he didn’t remember any of it looking the way it did now. 

Much of Boston had changed in the years since the Cordyceps fungus spread, and the city transformed into a military-run quarantine zone. The streets were littered with trash and graffiti was rampant, though the ocean breeze thankfully blew away the stench. Many windows were either missing or boarded up, and doors were barricaded or mounted with bulky, military-grade security locks that even Natasha couldn’t get through.

Violence was high. Most people just tried to get by, but with rumors of the infected getting past the barriers and the amount of supplies dwindling, many tried to revolt against the military. Those uprisings were quelled almost as soon as they began. Resources were scarce. Even though the military tried to set up as much production of goods as possible, it just didn’t churn out enough for everyone.

Steve tried to help. He smuggled contraband in from outside the city. With Natasha and Clint, they brought in medicine, food, and supplies – either from people outside the quarantine zone or through their own scavenging – in exchange for ration cards, weapons, or other goods. They knew all the hidden routes in and out of the quarantine zone like the back of their hands and weren’t afraid of getting said hands dirty.

The trio had their fair share of allies in the zone: a few other scavengers and traders who struck fair deals and could be trusted to have their backs, as well as soldiers willing to trade or who could be bribed to turn a blind eye. But they also had their fair share of enemies, ones who wouldn’t hesitate to cut them out of a deal or kill them over some minor infraction. So when they walked the streets, they kept their heads down and an eye on the lookout.

As they neared the gated checkpoint splitting Area 4 from 5, Steve spotted a group of people being frog marched out of a building across the street and forced to kneel in a line with their hands on their heads. A handful of soldiers had their guns half-raised, ready to shoot at any sign of unrest, while another soldier moved down the line, holding up a scanner behind their ears. The scanner started beeping loudly and insistently upon the third person, causing the man to cry in alarm. The rest of the group protested, but it did nothing to stop two of the soldiers from holding the man down and a third injecting him with lethal drugs. The next man in line panicked and got up to run, but was quickly shot down.

Steve looked away. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen or done before, but it never got any easier to watch. Instead, he focused on a few of the many ‘Wanted’ posters on the walls of the zone. Steve himself had a poster at one point, but he hadn’t seen any of them in years. Fury was still up there, along with Peggy. He swallowed at the sight of her photo and adjusted the bracelet on his wrist.

They arrived at the checkpoint intersection for Area 5. The zone was cordoned into five areas, so in the case of an outbreak the military could close off any one zone to limit the damage to the others. The checkpoint consisted of large steel fences and a sliding gate large enough to allow a Humvee or tank to pass through. There were cement barriers surrounding the walkways and small offices on both sides. Soldiers were scattered about, armed to the teeth, but at ease.

Steve and Clint handed Natasha their fake identification before she approached the guard minding the gate.

The guard glanced at the trio before holding out his hand and asking, “IDs?”

Wordlessly, Natasha handed the three cards over. The guard looked them over. “Reason for entry?”

“We’ve got the day off, just wanted to see some friends over on the east side,” Natasha replied.

He nodded and handed the cards back to Natasha. “Alright, you know the rules. Make sure you’re back before curfew. You –”

Something nearby exploded, sending a minor shockwave through the concrete beneath their feet. Beyond the gate, a burning Humvee rounded the corner as the sound of gunfire reigned.

“It’s SHIELD!” a soldier in the distance yelled.

The guard in front of Natasha gripped at his rifle and shooed the group away, urging them to, “Get back inside.”

Natasha stepped back toward Steve and Clint and indicated to the side with her head. “Guess we’re taking the long way ‘round, boys.”

Clint groaned. “Must we? Can’t one thing go right today?”

“At least this way we can stock up a bit,” Steve replied as he reached over and squeezed Clint’s shoulder. “C’mon.”

Steve led them away from the checkpoint and further down the street toward a building that sat against the edge of the quarantine zone. The noise from the firefight dulled with each step they took. Out of habit, Steve glanced around before entering the old apartment building. It was as run down and derelict as the rest of them. Debris lined the hallway as they made their way toward the back of the building. A slim black man leaned against the far wall. He looked up at their approach and smiled as he peeled himself away from it.

“How’re we doin’, Reg?” Steve asked as Reg fell into step with Steve, Natasha and Clint trailing behind.

“Close call the other night with Scott smuggling in those two outsiders. Patrols’ve been a bit more alert,” Reg replied.

“And SHIELD just made a move outside the checkpoint, so they’ll be jumpy for a while. We should limit our movement outside the wall for the next week or so.”

“I’ll spread the word,” Reg said with a nod. “Also, the East tunnel collapsed last week, so use the South. And be careful on this one, Penny came through yesterday morning and said some of the supports are cracking. I got Don scavenging for more wood, but who knows how long until we can get it.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“No prob. What’re you guys up to today?”

“Going to pay Jasper a visit,” Natasha chimed in from behind them.

“You too?”

“Who else is lookin’ for him?” Steve asked.

“Uh, Fury,” he replied hesitantly as he glanced back. “He’s put a few feelers out. Came around just after dawn.”

“Fury? Last I heard he was down south,” Clint said, confused. “What does SHIELD want with Jasper?”

“I dunno. Didn’t ask.”

“Well, what did you tell him?” Natasha probed. The edge in her voice was obvious.

“The truth. I don’t know where he is.”

“Good,” Steve said firmly as they came up to the last corner. “Now, stay out of trouble. Watch yourself.”

“Will do, Cap,” Reg said with a silly grin and a sloppy salute.

Steve barely refrained from rolling his eyes as Reg said goodbye to the other two and headed back to his post.

Natasha slinked her way up to Steve’s side. “Fury looking for Jasper isn’t good.”

“No, it isn’t,” Steve agreed. “We better make sure we find him before SHIELD does.”

Natasha nodded before leading the way into the last apartment. It was practically empty except for the ratty couch where Kevin, the monitor for the tunnel, sat with a book. In what used to be the dining area, plastic outdoor chairs surrounded a cheap table. The bookshelves were bare and the rug was dirty.

Kevin gave them a nod and a polite half smile as he closed the book around his thumb. “Hey guys, how’s it goin’?”

“Another day, another SHIELD riot,” Clint grinned. “How ‘bout over here?”

Kevin shrugged. “Quiet. No signs of military or infected.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Natasha replied as she and Steve made their way over to one of the bookcases, and Clint drew Kevin into a quick conversation about his book.

Together, Natasha and Steve pushed the heavy bookcase to the side to reveal a hole in the wall, barely big enough for Steve. The opening led to a dark, artificial shaft. Only a little light could be seen at the bottom.

Steve turned and nodded at Kevin in goodbye before Natasha and Clint did the same.

“Stay safe out there,” Kevin said with a wave.

Steve took the lead and climbed down a wooden ladder that was built specifically for the shaft. The ladder groaned under his weight, but didn’t threaten to break.

Once he made it to the bottom, he navigated his way through the dim light to a generator in the corner and turned it on. Suddenly the dark basement was filled with light from a small flood lamp.

It looked like an old mining tunnel and smelled like dirt and rust. A wall had been taken down to make it, and it ran almost thirty yards, connecting to the neighboring basement outside the zone.

Steve walked through the tunnel and noted the few weak spots that Penny had mentioned. He climbed over a large pipe that ran perpendicular to the tunnel midway through and made his way into the other basement.

“Grab what you can,” Steve called back. Natasha landed softly next to the pipe and Clint was beginning to clamber over. “Don’t know what Jasper will have up his sleeve, especially with Fury looking for him.”

This basement was already poorly lit. There was a row of tall, unsecure lockers against one wall. Therefore, there was a sort of honor system to those who used the tunnel. The lockers were used to hold any supplies they couldn’t explain away if caught with them inside the zone.

Steve made his way over to his locker and dropped his bag. He didn’t leave many things by way of valuables in his locker, but left some things that he could spare.

Not knowing what to expect because Jasper had already made a move, Steve prepared for anything. He pulled out his brown utility belt and packed extra bullets and magazines. He strapped a knife to the side of each calf, underneath his jeans, and made sure his push dagger was safely holstered on his left side next to his favorite tactical blade. He then grabbed his chest holster, which had been a lucky find a couple years ago, and strapped it on. In the zone, he usually only carried his revolver on the right side of his belt, but today, he also grabbed his 9mm and holstered it to his chest. There was no point being coy, everyone knew that Steve was always well armed.

Bending down, Steve double-checked his bag to make sure all of his essentials were there. He pulled out his more extensive first-aid kit and noticed he was running low on gauze. He found a small roll on the communal shelf and stuffed them, along with a few other pickings, into the kit. He then repacked the bag and threw in two more sheathed knives for good measure.

He closed his locker and went to a table. Natasha was already there, sharpening her knives and similarly arming herself to the teeth. Her two guns were holstered on her belt along with an extra magazine for each.

“Little low on bullets,” Steve commented.

Natasha grunted. “Make every shot count then.”

In the corner, Clint was restringing his collapsible bow under one of the floodlights. He looked ready with his gun holstered, a knife strapped to his thigh, and his quiver filled with what arrows he had left.

Steve tabled his arsenal. He made a cursory pass over his guns to make sure they were ready, having already cleaned them just a week ago. Then, he took a few minutes to sharpen his knives.

“We’re ready,” Natasha said, breaking Steve out of his rhythm. Steve nodded as he put away his knives and sharpening kit.

Together they made their way up the stairs, out of the basement and onto the ground floor of the neighboring apartment building.

Stepping outside the zone was almost like stepping into a different world. The air was fresh. Mother Nature had taken over, crumbling buildings under her weight. Cars were rusted and the pavement cracked open with greenery and roots. In another ten years, Boston would be unrecognizable. Steve thought there was almost something poetic about nature taking the city back from humans.

They wove their way through alleys and buildings, keeping an eye out and their ears open for both infected and patrols. There was no direct route to the tunnel. When the military bombed the city to fight back against the infected, they ended up destroying most of the buildings. It casted large pieces of rubble into the streets, tore up roads, and exposed a handful of the underground highways and subways. The South tunnel was only four blocks away, but because of all the maneuvering and climbing it took to get around and over the uneven terrain, it took about fifteen minutes to get close to.

The last structure they had to cut through was an old office building where the cubicles were ransacked and the windows were boarded up. The ground floor had been barricaded long ago, so they climbed up to the second using the emergency staircase.

They grabbed their flashlights as they slowly ascended into the darkness of the staircase and onto the pitch-black second floor.

Steve inched toward the corner of the hallway and stopped to listen for any noise; there was no such thing as being too careful these days. Hearing nothing, he glanced around the corner and swore.

“Spores,” he said, and dug around in his bag for his gas mask.

“There weren’t any spores last time,” Clint said. Although his tone was neutral, Steve could hear the complaint in it.

Natasha hummed as Clint pulled two masks from his small pack. “Yeah, but that was two weeks ago.”

“The infected should have the courtesy of dying in a ventilated area,” Clint replied and pulled on his mask.

Steve made sure his mask was on securely before saying, “I’ll be sure to let them know.”

After turning the corner, just up ahead of him, were remnants of a barricade made of desks and file cabinets surrounding an old fire door. Encasing it was a thin fog of floating small, yellowish spots or spores. The spores were dangerous. They were released from the dead infected and spread the virus almost as easily as a bite would. Infected could die naturally, or whatever passed as natural for an infected. Like most viruses, its goal was to spread as much as possible, so of course, the fungus found a way to survive even after killing its host.

There was a pathway through the desks and cabinets just big enough for Steve’s bulk to shuffle through sideways. Most of the fog was concentrated up ahead and Steve found the culprit hidden in the office on the right. It looked like a runner that had died, probably just after they had last been through. The body was sat in the corner, spores radiating from it. The virus had already spread to the walls behind it, continuing to grow wherever it could. When the fungus outgrew the body of a dead infected like this, it almost looked like a coral reef, but more sinister and less colorful.

“Wonder where he came from,” Clint said.

“Probably got bit and made it just past the barrier before succumbing to it,” Steve replied.

A woman screamed on the other side of the building and their heads turned sharply toward the noise. Steve felt his pulse spike. No matter how many times he encountered the infected, he could never get over the sense of fear and danger they instilled in him. There was no room for mistakes with them.

“Oh, look, he brought friends,” Natasha intoned as her hand went to the knife on her belt and Clint unfolded his bow.

Steve gripped his own knife and headed down the dark hallway, his flashlight lighting the way. He looked back toward the other two. “Be rude not to say hello.”

They quickly made their way to the next corner where another blockade was set up, this time made up of cubicle parts. Steve was just through the narrow passageway when something gripped his ankle. He swore and yanked his leg to scramble away. Steve turned to find the culprit, a man trapped under a heavy desk that had fallen through the caved-in ceiling.

His mask was broken.

“Please,” the man gasped, his arm reaching out listlessly. “Please, help me. I don’t want to turn.”

Steve and Natasha shared a look, reading each other’s thoughts: he was a dead man already. Sighing, Steve sheathed his knife and grabbed his revolver from its holster.

Steve looked to the other two. “Be ready.” They nodded and held their weapons tighter.

Steve stoically pointed his gun and shot him in the head.

Inhuman screams rang out in response.

Immediately, Steve holstered his gun and grabbed his knife again. He led the charge forward into an open room that gave them clear sightlines, but also gave them nowhere to hide should it all go south.

There were three runners. Runners were like zombies, but nowhere near the ones Steve used to see on film and TV, these were wilder and faster, if alerted. Undisturbed, they could be docile and were often seen swaying in place, hunched in on themselves. Like their namesake, they could run after you – sprint more like – and were deadly in numbers. They were also the first stage of transformation, marked by rotting skin and glowing, orange eyes.

Three runners were easy enough for them to handle, having faced worse odds. 

Steve grabbed the first runner by its shoulders, dodging its flailing arms, and threw it to the right for Natasha to deal with. He then turned and shoved back the second runner, leaving the last one for Clint.

Steve swerved past a waving arm and gripped the infected by its throat before lodging his knife in its ear. The runner stopped its thrashing and Steve let it fall limp to the ground.

Looking around, Steve saw that Natasha and Clint had dealt with their runners, Natasha already cleaning off her knife and Clint recollecting his arrow. Steve followed Natasha’s example and wiped his blade on the infected’s dirty shirt.

“All good?” Steve asked.

“Yup,” Clint replied as he put his arrow back in his quiver, looking happy that he could reuse it.

Natasha nodded at him and turned toward the emergency staircase on the far side of the room. The other two followed her lead and passed a woman on the floor, ripped apart by runners. Steve held back a sigh; another person to add to the infected’s death toll.

They went down the staircase and into a small fenced-off yard. Once outside, they pulled off their masks and put them away along with their flashlights. They all took a moment to regroup and breathe in the fresh air.

Crossing the yard, Clint entered a hidden door, covered in ivy, and attached to an old brick building. They bypassed a staircase to their right and entered what was an old mailroom. There was a stack of old mail in the corner next to a large stamp machine. The rest of the room was emptied of anything useful and replaced with trash.

Natasha rapped twice on a door. A young boy opened it partially. Natasha fished out a ration card and flashed it at him. “No soldiers, no Jasper, no lookouts,” she bribed.

The kid glanced at the card before nodding and closing the door.

“You know Jasper will be ready for us,” Natasha said as she leaned against the wall.

Steve inclined his head, looking thoughtful. After a moment of consideration, he replied, “Unless we can do this quietly, we handle it like the old days. You and I’ll hit ‘em fast, non-lethal if we can, then find some cover. Clint, stay back and get to high ground if you can. Find the stragglers. I don’t think he’ll have any snipers, but keep an eye out. Hopefully, if we keep the element of surprise on our side, things’ll go our way.”

“You got it, Cap,” Clint grinned.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Natasha smirked.

Steve huffed, but couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face. “Shut it, assassin twins.”

“Not assassins,” they rebutted together.

“Yeah, and I was a stripper,” Steve deadpanned.

“Ooh,” Clint laughed. “That’s a thought.”

“I would’ve hired you,” Natasha said.

“Ugh, haven’t you seen him try to dance? No rhythm.”

Natasha shrugged, smiling. “That’s a sacrifice I’d be willing to take, and I’ve seen worse.”

Steve rolled his eyes and smiled back.

A double knock on the door interrupted their joking. The door opened and the boy reappeared, giving them the all clear.

“Good kid,” Natasha replied, and handed over the ration card.

They entered into the alleyway and made their way through the streets. Area 5 was worse off than the others were. Steve was never sure why. The people here tried to make their living by selling or trading what they managed to smuggle or scavenge. They were a real ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind of people. Rough and always suspicious. The streets and alleys they walked through were reminiscent of a farmer’s market, only with unapproachable sellers and dirtier stalls.

Natasha led them through, nodding at a few people and a few vendors who tried to get their attention, but otherwise, they were left alone.

The group neared a fence marking where the Area ended. Just before the end was a fenced-off alley guarded by a Latino man in a hoodie. The man watched their approach, but didn’t budge from his slump against the wall. Steve noticed a large SHIELD emblem, an eagle with straight-blocked wings in a circle, was graffitied on the opposite wall. There weren’t many in the quarantine zone, but there were enough to remind residents of SHIELD’s presence every day.

Natasha sidled up to the man and fished out five ration cards. “We’re looking for Jasper,” she said as she held them up for bargaining. “He come through here?”

The man eyed the cards and replied, “About a half hour ago. He’s at the wharf now.” Without prompting, the man took the cards and pocketed them.

They walked past the guard into a small alley. They cut through some buildings without running into any of Jasper’s men before hitting a dead end at a locked fence. Luckily, the building next to it was just low enough for them to climb onto if they gave each other a hand. Together, Steve and Clint easily boosted Natasha up. Then Steve gave Clint a leg up while Natasha pulled him from above. Getting Steve up was a little trickier, but they were an old hand at this by now. With a running jump, Steve outstretched both arms while Clint reached down to grasp his right forearm, and Natasha his left. Grunting, they both pulled him up just enough to get his upper body onto the ledge, before grabbing onto the seat of his pants to pull him over fully.

“What have you been eating?” Natasha huffed. She sat on the ground to catch her breath; Steve and his pack weren’t light by any means.

“I had a big breakfast,” Steve replied as he shifted into a kneeling position.

Clint laughed and slapped him on the shoulder before getting up. “He’s been hiding his Wheaties from us.”

Steve stood as well and lowered a hand toward Natasha who took it.

Natasha shook out her arms and said, “Ready when you are.”

Steve nodded and led them across the roof toward the other side of the building. Upon hearing voices, he slowed and army crawled to the ledge. Clint and Natasha followed suit.

There was a courtyard below filled with A/C units and crates, and a warehouse with missing windows and doors. Steve spied two men just outside the warehouse.

“How’d you know they’re on their way here?” one man asked.

“Because two of them took out four of ours,” the second man replied, annoyed. “Guarantee all three of them are on their way now to get Jasper.”

Clint huffed and whispered, “Well, they ain’t wrong.”

The second man gestured to the far side of the courtyard. “You take the north side and I’ll stay down over here, make sure no one’s creepin’ around.”

The two men split up. Steve paid attention to their rotation, but also noted the four other men wandering around inside the warehouse. The first man on the north side would be further away, but more liable to see them, whereas, the second man would patrol below them, and be less likely to make them from his angle.

“Alright, Clint,” Steve said. “North side guy first, south side guy second. Kill shots; we don’t need these fellas givin’ us away. Once the second guy is down, Nat and I’ll jump down. You stay up here and keep an eye out. Nat, you go left, I’ll go right. There’s four men in there by my count. We’ll do a sweep once those are down.”

In response, Natasha silently pulled out her gun and thumbed off the safety. Clint unfolded his bow and backed up to find coverage on the roof. Steve backed up with him and pulled his gun in case shit went sideways.

Steve watched as the first man made a loop around the top side of the courtyard. Clint pulled back an arrow and tracked the man’s movement.

“Try to drop him behind those three crates on the far side, there’s a blind spot near that corner,” Steve whispered.

Clint didn’t nod, but as soon as the man swung around the crates Steve indicated, Clint loosed the arrow. It lodged in the target’s throat almost forty yards away. The man gaped and swayed in place for a moment before slumping down to the ground as expected. Clint prepared another arrow and silently crept up to the ledge with Steve following him.

They turned their attention to the second man who was humming to himself and kicking his feet, still unaware of their presence on the roof.

Steve whispered to Clint, “He’s going to come around on our left, heading toward us. You’re gonna have to get him just as he turns, but that means giving away your position. You okay with that?”

Clint nodded and kneeled as close to the ledge as possible. He leaned back to prevent being seen until the last second. Steve belly crawled to the edge and waited as the man made his second to last turn, headed towards their building. When he was two steps away from the turn, Steve raised his hand. Clint leaned forward and pulled back his arm just as the man looked up toward them, sensing movement in his peripherals. Clint fired, expertly piercing the man’s throat.

As soon as the body hit the ground, Steve and Natasha were over the edge of the building and weaving through the courtyard, doing their best to stay hidden behind the A/C units and crates.

Steve hid behind the crates closest to the right side of the warehouse. There were two men in the side room, one pacing near the door and the other sitting at a table in the middle of the room. Steve looked to his left and saw Natasha staring back from behind her cover about thirty yards away.

 _Count?_ She signed.

Steve nodded and signaled _one, two, three_ with his fingers. On three, they jumped from cover and ran towards the building.

Steve timed his approach so that the pacing man would just be stepping into the doorway when he got there. Steve roughly pulled the man into a chokehold, using his body as a shield as he pointed his gun at the sitting man. Steve fired at his right shoulder, and the man cried out as he fell out of his chair. The man in his arms began to squirm more and beat uselessly at him, so Steve increased the pressure on his neck, forcing him into unconsciousness. Steve dropped him to the floor and briskly searched him for any weapons. Finding only a knife, he tossed it into the far corner.

Steve approached the man on the floor who was grasping his shoulder where the bullet had pierced him. When he spotted Steve, his feet began pushing him backward before he tried to roll onto his side to reach toward his lower back with a bloody hand. Steve rushed forward, pulling the arm away from his back, and forced the man onto his stomach while pressing a knee between his shoulder blades. Steve found a gun at the small of his back and relieved him of it, emptying the few bullets, and tossing the magazine. He searched the man for any other weapons, but found nothing else. Then he grabbed the man by the scruff of his jacket and dragged him outside to sit him against the wall before doing the same with his unconscious friend.

Looking up at the roof across the courtyard, Clint smiled and signed, _Nat’s done, and she’s doing a sweep_. With a nod, Steve turned and did the same, leaving Clint to watch over the injured men. He found no other men inside the warehouse, but did find a wicked machete that he would have loved to keep, but had no way to carry. After clearing his area, he met Natasha in the middle and they both went to call Clint inside.

The group proceeded through the back exit and crouched behind a low, crumbling cement wall on a walkway that overlooked the wharf. The large, almost-destroyed warehouse had empty shipping containers to the left, their doors ripped off or wide open, and in the middle, there were empty crates and barrels sitting around haphazardly. At least fifteen men were scattered throughout, all with a sidearm or blunt instrument.

“There he is,” Natasha said, nodding toward the far side of the wharf, and Steve turned to look.

Jasper was finishing talking to two men before turning around and heading away, toward a door that Steve guessed housed the offices.

“Either of you seeing a better way than a shootout?” Clint asked as he canvassed the wharf. There weren’t any high points that could easily be reached beside the walkway they were on, so he folded up his bow and grabbed his gun instead. “There’s a lotta men here. He was definitely expecting us. But on the bright side, I don’t see any snipers.”

Steve studied the men milling around. He guessed money could only buy so many smart men, because he was able to see a path that would likely get them to Jasper without alerting anyone. The men were mainly clustered around the middle of the wharf, with a few that ventured a little further out, leaving the edges free to take advantage of. By their set up, they believed Steve and his friends were going to come in hot.

“Yeah, I think I got a way,” Steve said, “but stay close and stay sharp.”

Steve led them to a far point of the walkway, away from the warehouse, where the wall was all but gone and jumped down. He hunched over and immediately ran to some crates to kneel down behind. He could hear Natasha and Clint following behind him, so he covered them, but Jasper’s men appeared to be unaware of their presence still. Perfect.

Steve took a moment to reevaluate Jasper’s men and once he was satisfied that their path would still be open, Steve led them around the wharf’s edge. They ducked into shipping containers and hid behind crates, moving swiftly and nimbly from hiding place to hiding place.

They reached the opposite side with no issues, and Steve could finally see the office door clearly. Steve was just about to move from the container they were hiding behind when he heard the sound of small rocks shifting under feet. It seemed that one of the men had finally made the effort to patrol out further than their comfort zone.

Steve signaled to the other two to wait as there was someone approaching. There were two options here, either wait and hope the man went back to where he came from, or knock him out when he passed by. He hoped for the former, but knew the latter was more likely, so Steve holstered his gun and made sure his knife was within easy reach.

Unfortunately for everyone, the man was going to pass their container. The three smugglers pressed their backs against the metal wall for cover. When the man stepped into view, Steve barely noted the crowbar in his hand before rushing him, grabbing him by the opposite wrist and the neck of his shirt, and shoving him to the ground by tripping him onto his back. Steve sat astride his chest to punch his face once, twice, then rolled into a seated position and pulled the other man into a chokehold. He gasped and half-heartedly struggled in Steve’s arms. When he went limp, Steve stood, panting slightly, and propped him up against the container wall.

Steve stood up straight and nodded to the other two to let them know he was all right. Natasha held up the man’s crowbar and offered it to Steve with a questioning look. Steve eyed it for a moment before accepting it with a shrug. It might be nice to have a blunt weapon for this task, and it would be smart to leave the man empty handed for when he woke up.

They moved quickly after that and continued to sneak their way to the offices. There was a near miss where Clint was almost seen, but they otherwise made it close to the door without further incident.

Clint kept a look out as Natasha ran for the door. Finding it unlocked, she slipped inside, Steve following right after. Steve stood in the crack of the door to cover Clint as Natasha swept the first room. Once Clint was safely inside, Steve carefully closed the door and they joined Natasha in clearing the rooms.

They found Jasper in the large back office at the end of the hallway. He was looking at something on the desk when Steve opened the door. Steve barely had time to throw himself behind a desk before Jasper cried, “Fuck!” and raised a gun to start shooting.

“Jasper,” Steve said calmly between shots. He shuffled from his sprawl to kneel on one knee. “We just want to talk.”

“Like hell you do!” Jasper yelled and fired off more shots wildly from his crouch behind a desk.

“Put the gun down!” Steve hollered. He eyed Natasha taking cover next to the doorway and nodded once at her to let her know he was okay.

“Fuck off!” Jasper’s gun clicked empty. Cussing, Jasper threw the empty gun towards Natasha who had poked her head out from her cover at the sound of an empty clip. There was a split second of hesitation before Jasper sprinted out the back door.

“He’s running!” Natasha shouted and legged it after him, Steve and Clint hot on her heels.

The door led to a back alley. Jasper could have slipped away into one of the numerous offshoots, but Steve didn’t question Natasha when she yelled, “This one!” He instinctively followed her lead and caught a glimpse of Jasper ducking into another warehouse, this one dark, and empty.

They were all fast runners – had to be, in a world where speed meant the difference between life and death – and were able to gain on him.

Steve outpaced Natasha through the dark warehouse, dodging boxes and debris. He followed Jasper through a set of rundown offices and out of an empty window. Steve slowed to a jog when he saw that Jasper had run himself into a dead end, an alley that fenced off another Area. Jasper was gasping and trying to climb the fence, but gave up after his fourth attempt when he heard Steve approach with loud footsteps.

Natasha and Clint climbed out of the window behind them and sat on the windowsill to enjoy the show, their handguns still in hand.

“Hello, Jasper,” Steve said pleasantly, tossing the crowbar between his hands.

Jasper slowly turned and gave Steve a weak smile. He was already sweating profusely. “Steve,” he said with a wavering voice and, after looking past him, added, “Natasha, Clint. Nice to see you guys. No hard feelings, right?”

Steve merely stared at him and replied, “Of course not.”

Jasper continued to sweat as he took a few shuffling steps forward. He awkwardly smiled at Steve again before his smile dropped and his eyes darted to the space between Steve and the opposite wall. When Jasper dashed forward, Steve, anticipating the move, swung the crowbar down low, knocking Jasper’s legs out from under him. Jasper collapsed hard onto the ground with a shout.

Jasper began crawling away, but Steve swung his foot out, knocking Jasper onto his back. Steve then placed said foot on Jasper’s chest, shifting some of his weight onto it as he drew his gun. When he pointed his 9mm at Jasper’s head, Jasper whimpered and put his hands up. “Whatever you heard, it isn’t true. I –”

“Where are our guns?” Steve asked coolly.

“It’s – uh, a bit – um, a bit complicated,” he blubbered. “I just – please, Steve, hear me out.”

Steve shifted his foot to Jasper’s neck and pressed. Jasper gasped for air and tried to push it away, but could only choke out, “Stop, stop, please!”

“Just tell me what I need to know,” Steve said before shifting his foot back onto his collarbone.

“Okay, okay, I…I sold them,” Jasper admitted.

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Those weren’t yours to sell,” he responded and pressed down harder.

Jasper began to squirm and pant. “I didn’t have a choice, I owed someone.”

“You owed _us_ , Jasper.”

“I know, I know! Give me more time, please? A week! I’m sorry, I just knew –”

“That we would come after you if you didn’t deliver? But, you know,” Steve paused and stared down at him for a moment, “I might’ve given you a week if you hadn’t tried to kill my friends.”

“I’m sorry. I –”

“Shut it! I don’t want your ‘sorries.’ I want the name of who you sold the guns to.”

Jasper stopped his blabbering, but he was still breathing heavily. “I can’t tell you.”

Steve took his foot off, and before Jasper could get his hands and feet under himself, Steve pistol-whipped him hard in the face. Jasper fell back to the ground with a bloody nose, gasping.

“You wanna try that again?” Steve asked as his foot returned.

Jasper continued to wiggle beneath Steve’s foot for a moment before stilling. “SHIELD,” he finally gasped. “I owed SHIELD.”

“What?” Steve said absently, glancing over at Natasha and Clint. They looked as surprised as he was. They didn’t know that Jasper had any ties to SHIELD.

“I owed SHIELD,” Jasper repeated, “but we can get some of them back, they’re mostly all dead anyway. We can just go in and finish them off together. Wha’d’ya say?”

Steve once again looked at Natasha and Clint, who were now standing. Natasha appeared grim as she shook her head.

“I say you made the wrong decision,” Steve said with a sigh. His face was blank as he took the safety off his gun.

Jasper began to writhe again and threw his arms up toward Steve. “No, no, no! Please! Steve! You know this ain’t your style. Please! C’mon man, I can get you more guns!”

Steve paused. He knew Jasper was right. It wasn’t often that he killed in cold blood these days, but they had really needed those guns for their network. Who knew how many people would end up dead now without the proper weapons to protect themselves while scavenging. When Jasper had no-showed up at the drop point, Steve had discussed their response with Natasha and Clint. They had decided that either Jasper delivered or he paid for it in blood. His recent assassination attempt, though, bumped him up from a shot in the knee to a shot in the head.

Sighing, Steve looked to Natasha and nodded down at Jasper. She knew what he was asking and shrugged in silent response before nodding. Looking back at Jasper, Steve put the safety back on his gun and holstered it. He smiled humorlessly at Jasper as he removed his foot. 

“You’re right, it isn’t my style,” he said and helped Jasper stand. Jasper looked both shocked and relieved at being set free, however, Steve didn’t let him go. Steve straightened out Jasper’s ratty jacket before looking him in the eye and adding, “It’s hers.”

Steve stepped away and Jasper only had enough time for his eyes to widen before Natasha shot him in the forehead. His body slumped to the ground lifelessly.

“Now what?” Clint asked as he stepped up next to them.

“We go find our guns,” Steve said.

Natasha looked over to him and raised an eyebrow. “We’ll need to find a SHIELD agent for that.” Steve grimaced.

“We won’t have to look far,” Clint murmured, looking down the opposite end of the alley.

Steve turned to find Nick Fury, the leader of SHIELD, trudging toward them. Even in the summer heat, he was wearing his trademark all-black outfit, topped off with his black leather trench coat and eyepatch. He was hunched over slightly, and gripping the right side of his abdomen with his left hand. Steve could see blood seeping through his fingers.

“Nick,” Steve said, stepping forward, and felt Natasha and Clint moving to flank him.

“Rogers, Barton,” Fury replied, nodding at each of them; Steve could barely hear the waver in his voice from the pain. Fury looked at Natasha and hesitated before saying, “Natasha.”

When Natasha stayed silent, Steve glanced over and saw that her face was carefully neutral. Out of the three of them, Fury and Natasha had been the closest. “Nick,” she suddenly said, “you’re looking worse for wear.”

“I’ve been better,” he replied.

“What are you doing here?” Steve interrupted.

“I’m looking for Jasper.”

They all stepped back from the body at their feet. “Fuck,” Fury breathed. He closed his eye and shook his head once. “I needed him alive.”

“A bit late for that,” Clint replied.

Natasha added, “And besides, the guns he gave you belong to us. We want them back.”

Fury swayed closer and said, “We paid for those guns.” Fury eyed them for a moment before continuing, “If you want them back, you’re gonna have to earn them.”

“We don’t want any of this bullshit, Fury,” Steve cut in, tired and hot. “We’ll take our guns and go.”

“You smuggle something out of the city for me and you can have them all back, and then some.”

“How do we even know you got ‘em? From what we can tell, the military’s got you guys on the run.”

Fury sighed. “Alright, fine, I’ll show you where we’re keeping them.”

In the distance, there was shouting and the sound of slamming doors.

“Shit,” Clint said, “probably Jasper’s guys.”

Fury began walking backwards. “Time to go,” he said. “Make your choice.”

Steve turned around to look at the others. Natasha said, “We need those guns,” but didn’t look thrilled about it.

Clint merely shrugged and said, “Sounds like fun.”

“Alright then,” Steve said with a nod. Then to Fury, said, “Guess we’ll follow you.”

Fury didn’t reply, but led them on unsteady legs out the alley and through the city. They kept to the back alleys and less populated streets. At one point, they left Area 5 and crossed into Area 2. Then, finally, they climbed up a fire escape. Steve had to help get the ladder down and kept an eye on Fury as he slowly climbed, but he made it up just fine on his own. When they reached the roof, there was an explosion in the distance. Steve saw a cloud of smoke about three blocks away.

“That SHIELD?” Steve asked.

“What’s left of this unit. Why do you think I’m turning to you guys?” Fury replied. He began walking over onto the connecting roof. “Come on.”

“Diversion?” Natasha asked as she trailed after him, Steve and Clint a step behind.

Fury merely hummed in agreement as he led them to an unlocked roof access door.

“Looks like it’s working,” Clint said, finally tearing his eyes away.

They followed Fury down the stairs through what appeared to be an old office building. The stairs were clear all the way down to the ground floor, where Fury led them through the remnants of a large-scale kitchen, a former bakery, Steve guessed. When Fury went to open the door to the main room, he had trouble pushing it open. Wordlessly, Clint moved in to help him, Steve lingering should they need another hand, and the bottom of the door scraped loudly against the floor as it was pushed back.

Fury was thrown off balance, nearly falling to the floor, as the door finally gave way, but Clint was quick to grab his arm to steady him. Steve stepped up to help, but there was a blur of movement on the right, a yell of, “Get the fuck away from him!” and a glint of metal that had Steve bolting forward instead. With one arm, he grabbed at an arm brandishing a knife and, with the other, shoved hard against the person’s chest. The assailant stumbled backward and Steve saw that it was just a kid with a mop of brown hair.

“Calm down, kid,” Steve said, raising his arms.

“I ain’t a kid, asshole,” he retorted with a glare.

“It’s alright, James,” Fury cut in with a raised voice.

James closed his flip knife, and moved over to Fury. “You alright?” Before he could answer, James turned to the others demanding, “What did you guys do to him?”

“He came to us that way,” Natasha said impassively, leaning against the doorway. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were narrowed on James, calculating.

“James, it doesn’t matter,” Fury said as he leaned against the counter behind him, his left hand still holding onto his right side. James once again looked to Fury, looking concerned about his wound. “But there’s been a change in plans. I won’t be able to come with you.”

James frowned. “Then I’m staying here.”

“It’s too dangerous, and we’ve only got this one chance.”

Steve and Clint glanced at each other, the puzzle suddenly starting to form in front of them. By Natasha’s bored expression, Steve knew that she already figured it out.

“You promised me –”

“Wait,” Steve interrupted. “You’re telling us we’re smuggling this kid?”

“Stop calling me ‘kid’,” James barked at the same time Fury said, “Yes.”

“We don’t smuggle people,” Steve firmly said. “Especially ones we don’t know.”

“There’s a SHIELD team waiting at the capitol building for him,” Fury said, as if he didn’t hear Steve.

“That’s not exactly close,” Clint responded.

“How do you know they’ll get me there without getting me killed or captured for deserting,” James asked, reproachful.

“That’s where I know you,” Natasha interjected. “You’re military. Area One. Up in the nest, usually.” James lost some of his anger and nodded once.

“They’ll get you there just fine,” Fury said to James. He paused and sighed. “They may look like a ragtag bunch” – “Ragtag?” Clint whispered to the other two in mock indignation – “but they’re the best. I trust them with my life, and you know I don’t say that lightly.”

Steve was able to keep a straight face through Fury’s admission, but from a quick glance, he could see that Natasha wasn’t comforted by Fury’s words. Her eyes were trained on the floor and her jaw was clenched. That, along with the slight downward tilt of her mouth, told Steve that she was both angry and confused. Trust was one of the main reasons they left Fury in the first place.

Fury turned back to the three smugglers. “Get him to the capitol building and you’ll get double the amount of guns that Jasper owed you when you get back.”

“Speaking of which,” Natasha said, “where are they?”

“Back at our camp.”

“Convenient,” Clint snorted.

“Fine, I’ll take you and Natasha to the camp, you can verify it yourselves and I can get patched up,” Fury replied, “but Rogers will stay and watch James.”

“Bullshit!” James yelled as his arms flapped by his sides.

“I’m not a babysitter,” Steve scowled.

In the blink of an eye, James had his knife out of his pocket again, flipped open, and pointed towards Steve’s face. “If you call me a child one more time, your face is gonna get a new hole in it,” James threatened.

“I’d like to see you try that.” Steve crossed his arms and stared the kid down. James’ light gray eyes were narrowed and his cheeks were flushed with anger, but the hand holding the knife was steady. Steve was hardly intimidated by James’ lean frame, whose height reached no higher than his nose. If he hadn’t grown up during a pandemic – an apocalypse – Steve thought he probably could have grown taller with a better diet. His jaw was sharp, even with the last remnants of baby fat clinging to his face. Not a kid, but no older than twenty-two.

“Put the knife away,” Fury chided. With a mulish look, James flipped the knife close and stowed it away. “I don’t want you going through that part of town, and the less people that see you, the better.”

“Fine,” James said.

Fury nodded and pushed up from the counter with a grunt. “We should get moving while there’s still light.”

“Steve,” Natasha then said quietly. “Take him to the North tunnel. We’ll meet you there once we see the goods.”

Steve’s face softened, “Are you sure?” He didn’t want to put Natasha in a position she wouldn’t feel comfortable in with Fury.

She nodded, pushing off the doorframe. “We’ll take a walk down memory lane without you,” she said airily, “I know how much you love those.”

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Be quick.” Steve nodded goodbye to Clint before heading to the kitchen, intending to go through the back door he spotted earlier. Over his shoulder, he said to James, “Come on, keep close.”

As Steve continued through the kitchen, he could hear the sound of unfamiliar footsteps behind him.

It was going to be a long day.


	2. Boston

Ever since the outbreak, Bucky knew his life would never be the same, but the past few weeks were taking the fucking cake. When he was recruited into the military after boarding school, he resigned himself to being a soldier for the rest of his life and maybe dying in a SHIELD shoot out or in a confrontation where the infected began to overrun the zone. He never expected to have to go AWOL and sneak through the city with a smuggler as massive as an ox.

Steve was quick and efficient about getting them out of Area 2 and into Area 1. He seemed to know every back road, open door, and hidden pathway in the zone. When a patrol could be heard driving down the street announcing the mandatory curfew, he easily slid behind a low wall or into a dark alcove and waited patiently for the patrol to pass.

At one point, they needed to climb up to a fire escape where the ladder was missing. Steve brought over a steel trash can that was lying on its side and flipped it over. He motioned to Bucky to go first.

Bucky eyed the can dubiously. “Is that thing really going to hold us up?”

Steve sighed and motioned to the can again, “If it can hold me up, it’ll definitely hold you up. Now get on.”

Bucky pursed his lips and climbed atop it. The can shook a bit under him, but it was just high enough that if he jumped a little, he’d be able to grab the landing of the fire escape. Taking a breath, Bucky squatted a bit and jumped. He was able to grab onto the metal, but he had a little trouble pulling himself up. Pull-ups were never his strong suit, so he struggled a bit, but managed to get his arms onto the landing. There was no warning before he heard Steve say, “Here,” and felt a pair of hands wrapping around his ankles and unexpectedly pushing him upward. Bucky barely managed to reign in a yelp of a surprise as he slid over the metal grating of the fire escape.

Bucky got his legs under him and took a deep breath as he straightened out his clothes and backpack. He turned around to watch Steve climb onto the trash can down below. It tilted unevenly underneath his feet too, but he was able to easily grab onto the fire escape. He hung for a moment as he kicked the can over and let it roll away a few feet. Bucky observed, wide-eyed, as Steve slowly, but easily, pulled himself up onto the fire escape. His eyes trailed over the straining muscles of Steve’s arms as he swung a foot up and stood tall.

“Wow,” Bucky involuntarily let slip.

“What?” Steve asked as he straightened out his shirt and belt.

“Nothing!” Bucky practically squeaked. He cleared his throat as Steve gave him a questionable look. “After you.” He awkwardly shuffled to the side and waved for Steve to go by.

Steve was still looking at him oddly as he did, so Bucky went for an awkward smile in hopes that Steve would forget all about this moment. Bucky wanted nothing more than to throw himself down into the trash can.

With burning cheeks, Bucky followed Steve up the fire escape and into an apartment.

“So, how do you know Fury?” Steve asked, glancing back at Bucky. He led them out of the dirty apartment into the hallway.

Bucky shrugged and said, “I met him shortly after the outbreak. Our families stuck together for a bit before we all ended up at the Pittsburgh zone. Lost track of him soon after getting in there though.”

When Steve didn’t say anything in response, Bucky walked a bit faster down the hallway so he was shoulder to shoulder with Steve. Bucky leaned in to say conspiratorially, “He didn’t have the eye patch when I first met him, though.” He suddenly beamed and straightened up as Steve glanced over. Bucky was pleased to see mild amusement on Steve’s face. “So, what about you guys?”

Steve considered Bucky for a moment before looking away and replying, “We were SHIELD once.”

“Oh,” Buck said as they turned a corner, “but not anymore?”

“No.”

Noting that he probably wouldn’t get any further with his line of questioning, Bucky switched tactics. “So, you’re a smuggler who doesn’t smuggle people.”

“No, but other smugglers do,” Steve said. “You’re military; you know enough infected people get inside the walls on their own. We don’t need to add to it.”

“That’s kind of you,” Bucky replied, borderline sarcastic.

“What about you? You’re a soldier defecting to join SHIELD. Why the change of heart?”

They approached the end of the hallway. “If you’re trying to get me to tell you why I need to be smuggled out of the city, I’m not going to tell you,” Bucky answered.

Steve shrugged, unbothered. “Fine. Less I know, the better anyway.”

Steve opened the door to the last apartment and led them in. Bucky stood near the entrance and looked around. The furniture was sparse and worn, but was in better condition than most places.

Bucky’s focus was brought back to Steve when the man removed his backpack and belt. He watched as Steve swiped at the couch to remove some dirt and moved the pillow to rest against the arm of the couch. Steve lay back on the couch and placed his gear over his chest before wrapping his arms around it. He then closed his eyes.

Bucky waited a beat, before he flapped his arms and asked, “What’re you doing?”

Steve sighed. His eyes stayed closed as he replied, “What does it look like? We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“Anything you want except leave or touch my stuff.”

Bucky scoffed and walked by the couch to sit on the window seat. He spied a dirty red, white, and blue bracelet around Steve’s wrist and flicked it. “Nice bracelet, Mr. America,” he muttered, annoyed and flopped onto the cushion next to the window. A cloud of dust sprung up around him making him cough. He waved his hand around to dispel it as he looked outside. The apartment sat on the zone’s outer wall and had a view of both the zone and the surrounding city. The sight was a familiar one. His usual post was just a few blocks away.

Bored, he looked around the room, but there were only empty shelves and Steve’s quiet breathing to entertain him. He eyed Steve for a moment.

While the boys in boarding school had been passing around and jerking off to porn mags that they were able to scrounge up around the zone, Bucky had been bored and unaroused. He was only twelve then, so he didn’t think about it much. It wasn’t until he came across a gay porn mag while wandering through an apartment building with a friend a year or so later that he finally understood. The man on the cover was tan all over. A flannel shirt was hanging off his elbows as his thumbs tugged his belt loops dangerously low, pulling his jeans just far enough to still be covered, but indecently so. His body was hairless and his abs were sculpted. Bucky had taken a cursory glance through the magazine and stopped at the centerfold. He had stared and swallowed before adjusting his pants and hurrying to stuff the magazine into his backpack.

Since then, Bucky had been with a couple good-looking guys, but Steve was something else. He had wide shoulders that tapered to a small waist, dirty blonde hair long enough to tuck behind his ears, and a thick, brown beard that covered a strong jaw. He was Bucky’s lumberjack fantasy come to life. Bucky’s only saving grace was that he would probably never see Steve again once he made it to the extraction point.

As Steve’s limbs loosened and he lost himself to sleep, Bucky sighed and shrugged his backpack off to dig through. He pulled out a battered copy of _Lord of the Rings: Return of the King_ and flipped to the dog-eared page. He enjoyed getting lost in fantasy and science fiction books that took him away from reality. His favorite, though, were the space and astrology books he scavenged. He had read all the ones he could find at least twice and there were too many to take with him. He figured taking the last _Lord of the Rings_ book along with him would be fitting for the bit of journey he was on himself.

Bucky used the last of the afternoon light to immerse himself in his book. He didn’t know how much time he had spent reading, but the sunlight was almost gone when he heard Steve mumbling in his sleep. Bucky looked over to see Steve’s head rolling back and forth slightly on the pillow. The words weren’t discernible, but they were loud in the silent room and Bucky paused his reading to listen. Eventually, he stopped and Bucky returned to his tale.

At nightfall, generators began lighting up the zone, but the city outside the walls remained dark, with the exception of a few floodlights here and there. The desolateness of the city in comparison to the zone was eerie. Nature had taken over, crawling up buildings and over cars. Once in a while it would look like something shifted in the distance, and without a scope, Bucky wasn’t sure if it was an infected or just the wind rustling the trees. Some of the buildings were beginning to slant, and a few were already leaning against one another. Bucky knew there had been bombings when the outbreak occurred, damaging the foundations, but never asked about how much of the damage was due to the explosions. It wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things.

An hour or so later, Bucky could no longer read by the dim light, so he got out a bag of jerky instead. The wrapper crinkled beneath his fingers. Bucky looked at Steve, still sleeping, and slowly tried to peel the plastic open, but it tore loudly beneath Bucky’s fingers. He winced as he heard Steve take a sharp breath. When Steve moved to rub his face, Bucky whispered, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve replied, voice rough and muffled by his hands.

Bucky worked on extracting a piece of jerky as Steve sat up on the couch. “You know, you mumble in your sleep,” Bucky said conversationally. He didn’t bring up the fact that it seemed like Steve was having a nightmare. Everyone had nightmares these days. He bit down on his jerky and forcefully ripped off a piece with his teeth. The dried meat was salty on his tongue, reminding him that he only had so much water in his canister.

Steve hummed noncommittally before standing up and stretching. If Bucky took that time to draw his eyes up and down Steve’s body, no one had to know but him. He finally looked away when Steve began to pull on his belt and backpack.

“Want some jerky?” Bucky asked, proffering the small bag in his hand. Steve squinted at it in the dark and shook his head. Bucky shrugged and took more bites as Steve ambled into the kitchen. Bucky avidly watched as Steve ducked out of sight, presumably kneeling on the ground. He heard a cabinet door opening and some shuffling, followed by something draining in the sink before Steve returned to the living room.

“Corn?” Steve asked as he paused by Bucky and held out a can. Bucky eyed it. It had been a while since he’d eaten corn. The can was dirty and the label long gone, but there was no rust. Most canned goods from before the outbreak had gone bad already. It was rare to find one in good condition still. It was possible that this one was made after the outbreak, but that was just as unlikely. “It’s good, I promise,” Steve said quietly and shook it slightly.

Bucky’s eyes flickered up to Steve’s. Seeing nothing but sincerity, Bucky took the can and poured a little into his little jerky pouch. Bucky handed the can back with a quiet, “Thanks.” Steve merely nodded before going back to the couch.

Bucky finished off his jerky and watched out of the corner of his eye as Steve carefully poured some of the corn directly into his mouth. Bucky copied him not long after. The corn was a lighter color and it didn’t taste like he remembered, it was almost flavorless, but it wasn’t repulsive.

Once he was finished, he sat quietly and anxiously crinkled the empty wrapper in his hands. Steve was still slowly eating his corn and the silence was starting to get to Bucky. There were always people about in the barracks, making noise, even in the middle of the night. The only noise here was the sound of Steve chewing.

Sighing, Bucky looked out the window again. With curfew in effect, the only people out were soldiers. Even from five floors up, he could recognize Martinez walking along the street, based on her unique gait, and guessed that it was Adams next to her as they usually paired up.

“You ever been outside the walls?” Steve suddenly asked and Bucky turned his head in acknowledgement. “Patrolled there?” Steve placed the empty can on the ground by his feet.

Bucky shook his head. “I’ve never patrolled outside. Only went outside a few times for training against the infected. They liked to put me up in the nest mainly.”

“So you don’t have a lot of experience with the infected.”

“Not from close up,” Bucky admitted and Steve ran a hand over his mouth, stroking his beard as he sighed. Sensing Steve’s displeasure, Bucky straightened. “Get me a rifle and I’ll outshoot you.”

Steve merely raised an eyebrow in amusement. “If you say so.”

Bucky glowered, annoyed, and opened his mouth to give Steve a piece of his mind when the door opened.

Natasha and Clint strolled into the room with ease. Natasha clocked both Steve and Bucky before scanning the rest of the room with a flick of her eyes.

“Sorry we took so long,” Clint said as he closed the door behind him. “Soldiers are still everywhere.”

Bucky stood, gripping his bag to his chest, and stepped forward toward the other two. “How’s Nick?”

“He’ll be fine,” Clint replied. “Got patched up back with SHIELD.”

“We saw the guns,” Natasha said to Steve as he slowly stood up from the couch. “It’s a lot. They’ll be ready for when we get back.”

Steve nodded and adjusted his belt. “Good. You ready to go?”

Natasha and Clint glanced at each other before giving Steve a nod in approval.

Together, they headed down the hallway and entered the last bedroom. Bucky followed the others into the room and his nervousness grew. He had been waiting weeks to get out, and he finally felt as though things were moving forward now.

The bedroom was empty save for a large generator and small, square platform with a waist high control panel attached to it. Wires ran everywhere between the platform and the generator, and attached vertically against the wall behind the platform were multiple thick, metal posts.

Natasha stepped onto the platform and Clint followed her. Steve, though, went to the generator and began pulling on the recoil to get it started. Bucky looked to each of them, unsure what to do, but then Clint waved him over with a half-smile. Glad for some direction, Bucky smiled back and shuffled forward onto the platform to stand beside Clint who slid behind Natasha. Despite his scruffy appearance, Clint appeared to be the most approachable out of the three. His casual demeanor put Bucky more at ease, and, being so anxious already, Bucky needed that bit of that calm presence to soothe his nerves.

“Just stay close to us,” Clint said to Bucky. “Do what we do and whatever we say, and everything will go just fine.” He gave Bucky a friendly clap on the shoulder.

Bucky smiled nervously in response as the generator roared to life. “How long until we get there?”

“If all goes well, before morning hopefully.”

The platform shifted as Steve stepped onto it and turned his back to Bucky. There was only just enough room for the four of them to stand comfortably.

“So,” Steve said casually as he hit a green button on the control panel. “Fury say why we needed to do the smuggling for them?”

The platform jerked to life beneath their feet, and, for a moment, Bucky thought that it was going to be pulled out from underneath them. Instead, it slowly began to descend through the lower floors. Bucky noticed how the doors to the bedrooms below were boarded up and barricaded with furniture.

“No,” Natasha replied. “Just mentioned that Coulson and Hill were too busy to do it.”

“And no one else from SHIELD was available?”

Natasha shrugged. “Got the impression it was one of his need-to-know ops.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “So, he either needed the agents he trusts most or someone outside of SHIELD.”

Natasha didn’t reply, but from what he could see of Natasha’s face, she agreed with him.

“He say who’s waiting for us at the drop off?” Steve then asked.

“Just a team from another city. We probably won’t know them,” she replied. Bucky was almost spooked when he noticed she was looking over her shoulder at him. “What makes you so special anyway?”

Bucky awkwardly chuckled, “Shoulda asked Nick.”

The platform jerked again when it reached the dark basement. Bucky followed them into a dirt tunnel that replaced one of the basement walls. A few lanterns were strung up against a few wooden support posts and Bucky had to hunch over slightly to move through it. The passage ended about thirty yards over in an empty service tunnel.

Bucky tried his best to ignore the darkness on either side of them. The tunnel looked as if it continued for miles. Instead, he watched as Clint climbed a tall ladder while Steve stabilized it from below. Clint pushed up on a piece of plywood that covered a hole in the cement and peered out.

Clint ducked his head back in and called down, “Got a patrol.” They waited in silence. Bucky shifted on his feet anxiously; he was ready to leave this life. Around a minute later, Clint popped his head out and checked to see if the coast was clear. Clint paused before waving them up and climbing out himself.

No matter how much he saw of the outside world, Bucky could never get over the sight of it. The juxtaposition of the destroyed and vast, empty city, painted over with greenery, and the derelict, crowded zone made Bucky day dream about just getting up and walking away. Bucky had grown up in a large town surrounded by trees that changed color and green flatland with elbow room to spare. Everything the zone was not. The only thing that stopped him from leaving on his own was the danger that lurked in the city and the overwhelming unknown. Now, though, with a group of experienced smugglers, and likely fighters, Bucky was eager to get out.

Immediately outside the tunnel was a street broken to pieces. They stood in a large crater that was once a wide, major road. The rubble cast shadows from the bright light of the full moon. The crater was just far enough from the nests that they wouldn’t be seen. There were piles of crumbling cement and broken cars they had to scale to get up to the street. Steve led the way and Clint stayed back with Bucky to make sure he was keeping up. Most of the ledges were too high or jagged to climb, but on the far side of the crater, Bucky spied a small portion, next to a car hanging over the ledge, that was tilted down just low enough for someone to pull themselves up.

Steve was the first to reach the edge. Just as he began to pull himself up, a soldier materialized out from behind the nearest car and slammed the butt of his rifle in Steve’s face. Steve dropped like a bag of rocks, back down into the crater with a grunt, cursing. Another soldier came out from behind a different car a little further away, gun at the ready.

“Stop! Don’t move! Let me see your hands!” the first soldier yelled. All of them stood in place and held up their hands. Bucky risked a glance at Clint. His arms were raised half-heartedly with a look of disdain. “Any sudden movements, and you’ll get a bullet in your head. Understood?”

No one said anything, but Natasha nodded her head. Bucky could hear his heartbeat in his ears. His hands might have been shaking, too. This was _not_ part of the plan.

“Come on up one at a time,” the soldier continued. “Slowly.” Through the clear goggles of their gas masks, Bucky vaguely recognized both of the soldiers, but their names escaped him. They were older, and Bucky didn’t interact with the older soldiers much unless necessary. He hoped they didn’t recognize him either.

The four of them slowly climbed out. They were told to kneel in a line, facing the crater with their hands on their heads. Natasha was first, closest to the soldiers, followed by Clint, Steve, and then Bucky.

“Scan them,” the first soldier said, “I’ll call it in.” The second soldier nodded and took out an infection scanner as the first spoke into his radio saying, “This is Nichols with Avery in sector 12, requesting pick up for four stragglers.”

Avery went up to Natasha first, gun ready in her hand and a scanner in the other. She placed the scanner behind Natasha’s ear. “You don’t want to do this,” Natasha said. “If you look the other way, we’ll make it worth your while.”

“Shut up,” Avery said as the test beeped negative. She stepped away and continued down the line.

If Bucky thought he was stressed earlier, he was absolutely on the verge of panic now. He tried to stay calm, but feared everyone could hear him practically hyperventilating. He couldn’t let them scan him, he knew exactly what would happen if they did.

When Avery stepped up behind Bucky, she placed the scanner behind Bucky’s ear and asked Nichols, “What’s their ETA?”

“About 5 minutes,” Nichols replied.

A half-baked plan formed in Bucky’s mind. It wasn’t great, but it was all he had.

When the scanner beeped with the results, in the blink of an eye, Bucky was reaching into his pocket, flipping open his knife and swinging his arm back to stab Avery in the leg.

Everything turned to chaos from there. Bucky stood and wrapped his hands around Avery’s, pointing the gun away from him and trying to grab it. Avery pulled away though and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flat onto his back. Bucky began crawling, intending to roll into the crater as Avery lined up her gun, but Steve tackled her to the ground, sending her shot wide. Bucky watched as Steve struggled with Avery on the ground. He held her down with his body and wrestled for the gun.

There was a gunshot. Bucky gasped, but realized it didn’t come from Avery or Steve. A thud had Bucky turning his gaze to Nichols’ body on the ground, and Natasha’s gun aimed and steady in Nichols’ direction. Another gunshot brought Bucky’s attention swiveling back to Steve who was sprawled over a motionless Avery.

“Oh, God,” Bucky muttered as he panted, adrenaline coursing through his veins. They were dead. Nichols and Avery were dead because of him.

“What the fuck was that?” Steve growled, as he stood up, glaring at Bucky.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just wanted them to stop,” Bucky said.

Clint went to his side, one hand rubbing between his shoulder blades and the other squeezing his shoulder. Bucky looked at Avery’s body again. She had a son, he thought wildly. Only a few years old.

“Steve,” Bucky heard Natasha say, stopping Steve from whatever choice words he wanted to throw Bucky’s way. “Look at this.”

Natasha tossed Steve the scanner. He looked down at it for a long moment. Bucky didn’t have to imagine what it said.

“Holy shit,” Steve said murmured, and Bucky could see the confusion on his face turn to anger again. “Is Fury withholding information again?” he asked Natasha, but before she could answer, he turned back to Bucky. “Why are we smuggling an infected kid?” Bucky barely noticed Steve calling him ‘kid.’ He had more important things to worry about.

“I’m not infected,” Bucky said immediately, leaning forward from his seat on the ground. “I swear. I’m not.” Bucky felt the weight of three pairs of distrustful eyes on him. Clint’s hands gradually fell away as he moved back.

“So, this thing’s lying?” Steve waved the scanner, showing Bucky the ‘INFECTED’ result on the screen.

“I can explain,” Bucky pleaded.

“Speak quickly then,” Natasha said. Bucky eyed her hand placed casually on her holstered gun.

“I was bit _three weeks ago_ ,” Bucky replied. He hurriedly wiggled out of his backpack and pulled up his left sleeve. “Look at it.”

Clint, who was closest, hastily pulled out his flashlight and shined it on Bucky’s shoulder for everyone to see. There, on his deltoid, was a human shaped bite mark. Around the wound were signs of an infection. The skin was bubbled and discolored, but almost completely healed. Bite marks from infected never healed.

“Everyone turns within two days,” Clint stated, shaking his head in disbelief, as he clicked his flashlight off and put it away.

“Stop bullshitting us,” Natasha added.

“I’m not bullshitting you!” Bucky cried. He thrust his shoulder out again toward them. “It’s three weeks old. Please, I swear to you, I’m not lying. Why would I lie about this?” Steve shook his head and walked away, tossing the scanner as he went. Natasha and Clint continued watching Bucky. He needed them to believe him. He had no doubt that they would kill him if they thought he was truly infected. Nobody took chances like waiting around for someone to turn.

“Guys!” Steve suddenly yelled, running toward them. “Move out!” Steve didn’t stop as he breezed by them.

Before Bucky could even comprehend what Steve said, Natasha was sprinting after Steve without a backwards glance. When it finally clicked for Bucky, Clint was already pulling on his arm.

“Come on!” Clint urged. “Time to go!”

Bucky’s body started responding, letting Clint pull him up onto his feet and drag him along for a few steps. Bucky glanced in the direction Steve had come running from and saw a set of headlights in the distance. He kicked it into high gear then, causing Clint to let go of him, and he went tearing down the street after the other two. The military would find the dead soldiers and notice the gunshot wounds. They’d be on the lookout for four people outside of the zone. They’d shoot on sight.

Now, Bucky was a good runner. He was usually in the front of the pack when they would do laps around the city, but his three companions clearly outstripped him. It took everything he had to keep up. His breathing was harsh and his leg muscles were tightening up. Bucky followed them as they swerved around cars and ducked behind ruble, barely paying attention to where they were going.

They turned a corner and jumped into a ditch, one that was easier to climb out of than the crater, thankfully, then continued running down the road. They were halfway down the block before a Humvee with a search light rolled onto the street in front of them. Bucky barely had time to notice it before Steve, who was in the lead, stuttered and darted into a dark restaurant. Bucky followed as they scattered to hide inside.

Bucky slipped behind the counter after Clint. Winded, he all but collapsed onto the floor and threw his legs out in front of him to stretch them out.

“How you holdin’ up?” Clint whispered. He was out of breath, too, so that made Bucky feel a little better.

Bucky smiled wanly. “Not as in shape as I thought.”

“Yeah, running after Steve takes some getting used to,” Clint huffed with a smile.

They fell silent after that, listening to the slow rumble of the Humvee and the soldier’s footsteps and chatter. A minute after the patrol went by, Bucky heard Steve and Natasha get up. Clint stood and walked out from behind the counter, Bucky trailing after him on slightly unsteady legs.

Clint moved to Natasha’s side and bowed his head close to hers, whispering something as he placed a hand on the side of her neck. Bucky looked away at the tender look on Natasha’s face and walked closer to Steve instead.

Steve appeared to be in deep thought, eyes tilted toward the floor and hands resting on his belt. When Bucky stepped closer, Steve looked up, his face impassive. A beat passed before Steve asked, “You good?”

Bucky, surprised, nodded jerkily. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“What’s the play here, Steve?” Natasha asked, stepping away from Clint and readjusting her ponytail. “They’re going to be patrolling every block for the rest of the night.” Steve unexpectedly looked conflicted.

“James,” Clint said instead. “What was Fury’s plan? Did he tell you anything about what would happen once you got with SHIELD?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not really,” he admitted. “Just that SHIELD had some doctors who could create a vaccine if they could examine me and my blood.”

Steve snorted, “He’s still on about that cure?”

“Steve,” Natasha reprimanded.

“It’s what he said,” Bucky said, incensed.

“Fury says a lot of things,” Steve replied.

“Fuck off, I’m just –” Bucky started before stopping and waving his hands. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

“We should just go back,” Steve said to Natasha and Clint.

“There’s no use going back now. You know that,” Natasha replied. “It’d be hell trying to get back into the zone right now. And besides, what if it’s true?”

“You believe Fury now?”

“He wouldn’t have done all this if he didn’t believe it,” she reasoned.

Steve sighed, resigned, and passed a hand over his face. When Steve spoke next, he didn’t look happy about it.

“Our best bet is to go through the buildings. I don’t like it, but we know they’ll be less likely to go into them, and it’ll be easier to defend ourselves if they do. The Cambridge and Chardon area is crawling with infected and Sudbury is blocked, so the fastest way is to cut through the federal building. All goes well, we can cut through central plaza. Then it’ll be a straight shot.”

Bucky nodded along because Steve wasn’t wrong. He’d studied maps of the city surrounding the zone while in training. The Cambridge and Chardon intersection was more heavily populated with infected because of the hospital just down the street, and even now, years later, the area still hadn’t fully cleared. When the foundation of the federal building’s high-rise went, it had collapsed mostly toward the north, creating a 200-foot-high blockade across the street, leaving the smaller east side of the federal building standing. That left either heading down a major road littered with soldiers, taking an extra day to go all the way around the north side of the city, or cutting through the buildings.

“Have they cleared out the federal building recently?” Clint asked.

It took a moment for Bucky to realize Clint was asking him. Natasha and Steve looked to him, too. Every so often, the military chose a nearby building or area and gradually swept it for infected. People who snuck in and out of the zone liked to hide in the buildings, and often times were bit while doing so. Sweeping the buildings helped control the amount of infected in the area surrounding the zone. Once in a while, they lost soldiers to the city sweep, but it was worth it to cut back on the waves of infected.

“Not that I can remember,” Bucky answered.

“Great,” Clint sighed.

“Alright,” Steve said, walking toward the door, “let’s head out then.”

Silently, they filed out of the restaurant, heading south toward a massive, crumbling parking garage. Steve led the way, his head on a swivel, scanning for trouble. Behind him, Bucky could hear fabric rustling as Clint and Natasha took the rear.

Most of the left side of the parking garage had collapsed, but the right side was still intact. A street that used to run below the structure on the left side, was mostly blocked by rubble and was cut off by fencing and cement barriers. It blocked the main entrance, too, though a rusted moving truck had been piled against it. Following Steve, Bucky watched as Steve vaulted onto the cement barricade, and then pulled himself onto the roof of the truck by sheer upper body strength. Bucky tried to follow his example, climbed on the barrier with shaky legs. Wobbling, he tried to grasp the top of the truck, but without Steve’s strength, he needed Steve to help him up.

“Thanks,” panted Bucky.

Coolly, Steve nodded. “Clint and I’ll toss Natasha up, then you. Just watch how she does it.”

With apparent ease, Clint and Natasha were already making their own way to the wide, flat roof of the truck.

The space between the truck and the garage was only two feet wide. The catch was the twelve feet jump to the railing on the second level.

Bucky watched, fascinated, as each man crouched, placing their doubled hands, palms up, on their thighs. Natasha placed a foot on each man’s hands. Without any apparent effort, Steve and Clint tossed her up and over to the railing. Twisting in the air, Natasha made grabbing the railing and throwing herself over the metal barrier look painless. Swallowing hard, Bucky knew he was going to be a flightless bird in comparison.

“Come on, James.” Clint waved Bucky over and he stepped between the two men who were in position. “Put your hands on our shoulders.”

Following Natasha’s lead, Bucky put one foot into the cradle of Clint’s hands, and placed a hand on his shoulder, then did the same with Steve. They shifted so he was crouching between them, their hands steady under his feet and their shoulders firm under his hands.

“Push off on the count of three,” Steve instructed. Bucky tilted his head slightly toward him as he spoke. “Don’t worry about making it to the garage. Just get a grip on the railing.”

When Bucky nodded, Steve began counting. “One. Two.” Bucky was abruptly lowered and he unintentionally tightened his grip on their shoulders in surprise. “Three.”

Soaring through the air, the railing came fast, but Bucky followed directions and kept his focus on the railing. His hands made contact and tightened around the metal.

Bucky _oomphed_ as his body slammed into the metal railing, but he held on. Scrambling, he placed his toes on a little concrete ledge and used his shoulder muscles to push himself up, over the railing. His tumble in wasn’t graceful, but he made it.

Bucky offered a bashful smile to Natasha and was pleased to receive a small smirk in return.

“Help me keep an eye on these two,” Natasha said. “They’re going to parkour up. Be ready to catch their hands if they don’t make it.”

“Parkour?”

Steve and Clint had separated, each taking a corner furthest away from the garage.

Bucky watched closely as Clint took a deep breath and began running to the opposite corner. His heart seized as Clint jumped off the truck, effortlessly bouncing one foot off an outcropped garage pillar and propelling himself up to the railing. As Natasha’s hands hovered over Clint’s, Clint used the rest of his momentum to hop over the railing and into Natasha’s arms.

After a cocky grin aimed at Bucky, Clint pressed a kiss to Natasha’s hair. A beat later, he stepped out of Natasha’s embrace, turning back to the railing to give Steve a thumbs up.

Steve looked just as practiced and natural as Clint, but he slammed down harder on the railing, and it shook under his weight. Clint grabbed Steve’s wrists as Steve toed the ledge, pushing his bigger body up and over, landing with a thud.

“I’m getting too old for that,” Steve complained, catching his breath.

Clint patted his shoulder with a grin. “We should try a fifteen-foot wall next time. Up the stakes a bit. This one’s getting boring.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned away. “Come along, boys.”

Bucky admired the way they fell into place with each other without another word. It was second nature to them, showing a trust and comradery unfamiliar to Bucky. Steve took the lead, Natasha to his right and just a step behind, and Clint bringing up the rear, but listing to his left. Bucky stayed back, not wanting to disrupt their rhythm.

The further they walked into the garage, the darker it got. The moonlight dimmed, and Bucky could barely make out the others in front of him until they took out their flashlights to illuminate the garage. Around them, the place was half-full of old, weathered cars. Most looked ransacked, stripped of any goods. Here and there, in the shadows, Bucky could see the remnants of decayed bodies.

There was a clang in the distance, echoing from the collapsed part of the building. They each pulled out a weapon at the sound: Steve a gun, Bucky and Natasha both grabbed knives, and Clint his bow. Bucky had noticed the bow hanging over Clint’s shoulder and the quiver on his back, but didn’t know anyone who actually preferred them. Everyone seemed to stick to their guns and bullets for long-range weapons, they were quicker and easier to handle.

It didn’t take long to get to the other end. The flashlights were put away as they approached the row of cars parked in front of the railing. They had just begun moving between the cars when Steve suddenly stopped and held a fist up, halting Natasha and Clint. Bucky stumbled to a stop behind them and held his breath.

Alone, Steve crouched and crept up to the railing, looking up and down the street below. He then looked back and signed the number two before holding his arms at a ninety-degree angle, hands turned into fists, and started pumping his arms back and forth in opposite directions twice. Once Natasha nodded, Steve watched for a few seconds longer before sneaking back.

“Two Humvees,” Clint whispered, helpfully, to Bucky.

Bucky waited anxiously as the noise of the vehicles increased, died down, and increased again as they turned around at the end of the blocked street. At one point, a searchlight passed over the area where they lingered, flooding the space around them with light. Bucky squinted and flinched under the brightness. For a moment, he feared they would be seen, but realized they were far enough back to be hidden from view. He only found himself breathing easier when Steve went to check the street after the noise died down and signaled them to move.

Bucky watched as Steve effortlessly hopped the railing and dropped away from sight with the other two following after him. Bucky peeked over the railing curiously to see that there was a small extension of the garage directly below. It was nice to know they didn’t expect him to drop almost three floors without any help. Clint was just jumping off the roof when he looked to Steve, who was watching him intently and waving him down.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky steeled his nerves and tossed himself over the barrier. The impact was loud compared to the others, and the shock from it vibrated through his feet to his ankles, shins, and knees. He looked to the others, but they didn’t seem concerned with the noise. Natasha and Clint were keeping an eye on their surroundings, but Steve continued watching him, motioning for him to move. Bucky hastily moved, shaking his feet out as he went, not wanting to hold them up further.

The drop to the ground was shorter. He landed on the balls of his feet this time, which helped him use the fall’s momentum to push himself forward a few steps and avoid the shock he suffered on the previous drop.

Bucky barely had time to take a breath before they were jogging across the deserted street and between cars. To the right lay the collapsed portion of the federal building. It was massive, even on its side. The building and its rubble sprawled across the road, even destroying the building across the street.

Like most buildings, the federal building’s entrance was sealed with a military grade lock and the ground floor windows were boarded up. They ran past the entrance, where most of the letters of the ‘John F. Kennedy Federal Building’ sign had disappeared, making it the ‘Joh . Ken ed Fed r u d ng’ now, and headed to one of the windows on the first floor. Steve jogged up to it and put his ear to the plywood for a moment. He turned, and nodded to Clint, who wordlessly prepared his bow and stepped up to Steve’s left. Steve put his hands in a small slit cut into the wood on each side, and with a grunt, and some force, jerked the wood from the window before briskly stepping to the right. Clint immediately moved into the vacated spot and cleared the room for infected before climbing in.

Natasha followed after and Bucky didn’t need any cueing this time to know he was meant to go next. The window was narrow, but he shuffled through it sideways without much issue.

Inside was a small office, any furniture that was still standing was pushed against the walls. The door was closed, but Bucky could still hear the muffled wails from the infected through the door. They sounded like they were gasping for air and, sometimes, even crying. Natasha and Clint were pulling out their flashlights again, and arming themselves when Bucky heard something entirely new. There was a muted screech, followed by mixture of short croaks and clicking noises.

“What the fuck was that?” Bucky whispered. Any natural light disappeared when Steve put the wood plank back. The flashlights were then turned on and Bucky had to squint as his eyes adjusted.

“Clickers,” Natasha answered lowly.

“Nasty fuckers,” added Clint, under his breath.

“They never teach you about those?” Natasha asked, concerned.

Bucky shrugged. “Vaguely, but I’ve never seen or heard one in person before.”

“They can’t see, but they can hear very well, and they’re stronger than the runners. The clicking noise helps them see.”

“Like echolocation?” Bucky asked, hushed.

The side of Natasha’s mouth tipped upward, “Exactly. The fungus grows out of the brain and creates a sort of armor around the head, so you need to use a lot of force to pierce it. Guns preferable, but knives work in a pinch.”

Bucky pulled out his knife and presented it to Natasha. She shined a light on it and hummed. She holstered her own knife before grabbing Bucky’s and flipping it open. After testing the blade and the balance, she passed it back, handle first. “That’ll work,” she said. “It’s a nice knife.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, palming it. He didn’t say that he plucked it out of some dying man’s chest during the Philadelphia uprisings. It was probably implied. Most weapons came from the dead.

“Everyone ready?” Steve asked softly, and everyone nodded. Bucky noticed he had a large tactical knife in his right hand, and Clint was still carrying on with his bow and arrows.

“I’ll take point,” Steve continued, “Natasha, behind me. James, you stay close to her, and Clint’ll bring up the rear. We move slowly, they obviously haven’t cleared this building in a while if there’re clickers here. Alert the group if you see or hear anything.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded. “How many times have you guys gone through here?” he asked.

“Just once,” Steve replied, brushing by him to get to the door.

“And how did that go?”

“Well,” Clint said, shrugging, “we’re not dead.”

Bucky stared at Clint.

“Inspiring,” Bucky deadpanned after a beat of silence, causing Clint to grin.

“Quiet,” Natasha interrupted, softly.

Steve was ready at the door, giving Bucky a somewhat displeased look. Natasha was beside him, her expression flat. Bucky quelled under their looks and mouthed “sorry” before getting behind Natasha.

When they settled, Steve gently pushed open the door. It squealed slightly as it swung open, but any infected that were nearby earlier were no longer lingering in the area. There was only unnerving silence and hushed clicking as Steve looked both ways before heading to the left. They filed out after him and Clint shut the door behind them.

Bucky’s pulse was racing, but his breathing was steady and smooth this time. This was a different sort of danger. The situation was unreal, and chilling, but he was armed with the knowledge that he was immune now. The only thing he had left to fear from the infected was if they got close enough to rip into him, but he was quick and a fighter. He could survive their bites. He could survive their spores, he thought, anyway. He only had so much left to fear.

They slowly sidled down the hallway. There was debris from office furniture, supplies, and fragments of doors spilled around the edges of the hallway. He watched where he stepped in the dark, being the only one without a flashlight, while keeping an eye on the shadows. Steve and Natasha were taking turns peering in the few offices along the way.

The lobby was square. The main entrance was blocked with desks and couches. The few couches that remained to line the walls were still in decent shape, surprisingly. The reception desk that faced the main door, however, looked like it took a beating, evidenced by the bloodstained counter and the holes punched into the front wood paneling.

Steve went to the closed double doors to the right. Bucky couldn’t see what he was doing, but he heard Steve curse and the sound of a handle attempting to turn. Steve tried to push and pull on the doors, but they wouldn’t budge.

“It must have been knocked shut,” Steve whispered, sighing, when he came back to the group. He nodded to the hallway opposite of the one they just came from. “We’ll have to go the long way around.”

This hallway was much like the other one, but the inner offices looked in on a rectangular courtyard in the middle of the building. From the office doors that were open, Bucky could see thick bushes lining the outer edges of it through the floor to ceiling windows, but what worried him the most was the sign of movement he caught at the edge of one of the windows. He felt a shiver run down his spine when he heard the screams of the clickers, louder now. When they crept past one of the open offices, he could finally see their shadowy outline as they staggered around the courtyard.

There was a more pressing concern though, up ahead, the offices opened up into a small loading bay, and from the noises Bucky could hear as they approached, it had a few runners inside. Flashlights were kept pointed toward the ground and as Steve crouched, with the rest of them following his example, they filed into the room, going left and staying low behind a row of large, dirty boxes. There was a loading bay with three small docks was to the left, a row of desks and tables along the wall behind them, and a set of large shelves covering the rest of the walls. Filling the middle of the room were more boxes, furniture, and shelves. Across from them was a half open door.

A clicker’s screech cut through the air, but it was still slightly subdued, signaling that it was beyond them.

Bucky peered over the boxes to see four runners, there was one, dormant, near the loading bays, and the others were randomly circling the room, avoiding the empty boxes strewn about. It took Bucky a moment to realize that, out the corner of his eye, Steve was giving signals. He tried to make sense of the signs that he was gesturing to the other two, but he couldn’t understand. He could tell when Steve addressed them singularly by pointing at Natasha and Clint, but he never pointed at Bucky. He got the feeling he was being excluded on purpose.

Those feelings were validated when Steve finally pointed at him and then firmly pointed to the ground. Bucky’s eyes narrowed. Those signs, he understood perfectly. He wasn’t completely helpless against the infected, he’d killed them before – maybe not like the others, but he had done it. Bucky shook his head and mouthed ‘No’ at Steve, but Steve only gave him a cold look before repeating his signals and turning his attention away.

It irked Bucky that Steve didn’t trust him to handle a simple runner, but it wasn’t exactly the best time to argue about it. He could see why Steve would be hesitant, Bucky did admit to not having a great amount of experience with killing runners, but there was also the fact that the other three already worked well together, to throw in an unknown into the mix might throw the group off. Instead, he stewed. There wasn’t much use to fight about it if they were going their separate ways by morning.

The others began moving noiselessly and cautiously around the edges of the room, ducking behind boxes and other furniture. Bucky knuckled his own knife and peered over the top of the boxes. He’d be ready to attack anyway, just in case they needed help. They _were_ outnumbered after all, even if it was only by one.

They moved on Steve’s signal: two short, little whistles. Clint kneeled up from behind his box, flashlight held sideways in his mouth, his arrow nocked, and immediately fired at the runner on the furthest side of room. His aim was perfect, even in the dark. The arrow pierced the infected’s skull and dropped it to the ground. Steve and Natasha rose as one. From the right, the runners, attracted by the whistling noise, began growling and running toward them. Bucky watched in awe as the runners were easily dispatched, Steve knocking one runner to the side toward Natasha, who seamlessly struck it to the ground and followed it down with a knife to the head. Steve had grabbed the other runner, pushed it to the closest shelf, and stabbed it through the eye. While watching those two, Bucky didn’t notice that Clint had taken down the dormant runner with an arrow and was already collecting his arrows.

Bucky stood up from behind the boxes as the others wiped their weapons and resituated themselves. Steve looked at the rest of them a held up an ‘OK’ symbol with a questioning look on his face. Natasha and Clint nodded and gave him a thumbs up. Bucky was quick to follow when he noticed Steve waiting on an answer from him, earning him a sharp nod in return. With everyone checked in, they left single file through the opposite door. Distinctive noises reminded them that a clicker was nearby.

The next room was large, offices along the edges, but the middle of the room was filled with four feet tall cubicles. Bucky made out the outline of the clicker on the far side of the room, it had paused in its meandering with a loud screech before croaking and clicking as it hunched over, like it was hacking. There were no other infected in the room from what he could tell, but there was no real way of knowing with the dark offices and high cubicles.

“Shit,” Clint cursed under his breath from beside Bucky. They were partially crouched together behind two attached cubicles. Clint leaned around Bucky and signaled something to the other two. Steve made some signals back and Bucky sighed, feeling out of the loop again.

Clint nodded at Steve and shuffled close to Bucky. He held out his flashlight and whispered, “Hold this.” Bucky took it with a nod and kept the light pointed toward the ground.

Steve placed his free hand in the light of his own flashlight and Bucky watched as he counted off to three. Steve and Clint then stood and, curious, Bucky rose up just enough to peak over the cubicles. The clicker was suddenly illuminated by Steve’s flashlight as it staggered down the pathway to their right. There was barely a face left on the clicker, it still had a mouth, but the fungus had transformed anything above it. The fungus bloomed from the center of the face in several layers of pale yellow, with red edges. The layers looked rigid and Bucky could only think of the growth as if someone took the skin of someone’s face and stretched it. Bucky couldn’t inspect it much further because Clint’s arrow went through its head, killing it.

Once the body had fallen, the others all stood tall, but ready for a fight, and Bucky followed their example. Only Steve moved through the middle walkway between the cubicles, searching for something. He must have found it because he abruptly paused at one desk. Bucky couldn’t see what he was doing, but he could guess what it was when Steve hurled something at the wall on the left side of the room. The objected shattered upon impact. They waited with baited breath for an infected to make themselves known at the sound, but there was nothing. Bucky let out a sigh of relief.

Clint went to retrieve his arrow, and Bucky followed him, wanting to get a closer look at the clicker. The arrow made a sick, squelching noise as it was pulled from the clicker’s head.

“Aw, man,” Clint said and shined a light on the shattered tip of the arrow. “His face broke it.”

Bucky winced in sympathy. “Sorry, pal.” Clint merely shrugged and tossed the broken arrow aside. He offered Clint the flashlight back, who took it with a small, “Thanks.”

“You know, you’re really good with that thing,” Bucky said, gesturing to Clint’s bow.

Clint looked down at his bow and shrugged, “Thanks. Turned out to be a natural. Haven’t missed a shot since I was eight.”

“Ooh, and real modest, too.”

“Ain’t bragging if it’s the truth,” Clint practically sang, making Bucky snicker.

Bucky bent over the head of the infected and inspected it further as Clint searched the clicker’s clothes for anything valuable. The clicker’s teeth were rotted and its lips were almost non-existent. Tilting his head to the side, he could actually see a part of the infected’s left eye, it was deformed, pushed to the side of its face to make room for the fungus, and partially covered by the ridges. It looked to have been a man, with ripped jeans and a tattered, dark sweater. Bucky could barely make out the words printed on the sweater, but thought it said Harvard. Bucky briefly wondered if the man actually went there or if it was a just a place he passed by to get here.

“Yeah, you’re right, Clint, we’re not getting through there,” Bucky heard Steve say. Steve was on the far side of the room with Natasha, looking and shining his light in the direction of the hallway that would have taken them to the right, in the direction of where they needed to go. “Trying to move everything quietly would just set us back too much.”

Bucky walked over to where they stood and peered in. There was a wall of desks, chairs, and filing cabinets; he couldn’t even see where it ended. Bucky turned to look into the office closest to them and saw the deserted plaza outside the window.

“Why can’t we just go through the window?” he asked, pointing towards an office.

“It’s the federal building. All the exterior windows are reinforced and bullet proof,” Natasha replied, “and there’re only two windows that’ve been broken over the years: the one we came in through and the one we’re trying to reach. To get through one of those windows would take too many shots. We’d waste ammo and attract every living thing within hearing range inside and outside of this building.”

Bucky nodded and sighed, of course things could never be that easy. “Noted.”

“We’ll have to go through the courtyard then,” Steve said from inside one of the inner offices, examining such courtyard. “If we can get the door open over here, we’ll be good. The other side’s already open.”

“You wanna go where the clickers are,” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Don’t worry about it, there’s only two of ‘em,” Steve dismissed as he exited the office and headed back in the direction they came in through. Bucky scrunched his face in annoyance. He had a right to be worried that Steve wanted to go _towards_ the obvious danger.

“Were any of the office windows broken already?” Natasha asked, following Steve. Bucky took that as his cue to do the same.

“Just on the side we can’t get to.”

“Figures,” Clint snorted, getting up from the desk he was sitting on and following, too.

Steve led them to the courtyard door at the end of the row of inner offices. Bucky stood at the back of the group, not able to see what was going on.

“Clint takes the further one, Nat and I’ll get the closer one,” Steve said, with a glance over his shoulder. “James, stay back.”

Bucky wasn’t surprised to hear that and barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Clint gave him an apologetic look as he prepared his bow and Bucky shrugged in return, it wasn’t Clint’s fault that Steve had an issue with Bucky.

There was a light thud as Steve pushed against the door. It didn’t move.

“Is it locked?” asked Natasha.

Steve shined his flashlight around the doorframe. “No, just rusted, I think.” He pushed against it again and Bucky could see whole frame shake.

“C’mon, Steve,” Clint cajoled, “put those muscles into it.”

“No commentary from the peanut gallery, thanks,” Steve replied, strained, as he pushed some more. There was a loud crack, and the door swung outward with a loud shriek that rivaled nails on a chalkboard. Like call and response, the clickers in the courtyard screamed at the noise.

Bucky’s heartbeat ramped up when Steve shouted, “Fuck!”

Steve and Natasha ran out to meet the infected. Bucky stepped up beside Clint to see the two clickers stumbling fast toward them, their arms swinging wildly, squawking and clicking all the while. There was a bigger problem though, the loud noise attracted runners they hadn’t seen, and three spilled in from the opposite door, running full speed at them.

Clint easily took out the clicker in the far corner, and at the same time, Steve had just managed to get the first clicker under control, held by the throat at arm’s length. The runners were halfway across the courtyard by the time Natasha was able to stab the clicker in the face. It dropped, and Steve and Natasha set themselves up to meet the runners.

“Shit,” Clint cursed as he nocked an arrow, but didn’t fire. “They’re blocking me.” Clint was then sprinting out to join them, putting away his arrow and yelling, “I’m here!” as he came up on Steve’s left, pulling out a knife.

Bucky didn’t pay much attention to what they did next, because, out of nowhere, a runner was climbing through the broken window on the left side. A glance to the others told Bucky that they were preoccupied to notice it. The runner had just clambered to its feet when Bucky’s own feet started to move, without a second thought. He darted out, his footsteps light in comparison to the noise the others were making. The runner was headed toward Steve, who had just managed to knife his runner under the jaw. Bucky got to the last one just in time, grabbing the infected by the remains of its jacket when it was within spitting distance of Steve. Steve must have noticed the noise behind him, because he quickly jerked out his knife and did a one-eighty, arms up for a fight, only to find Bucky pulling the runner back toward himself and using all his strength to drive his knife into the back of the runner’s skull.

Bucky took a deep breath after the runner slumped to the ground. He looked up to see Steve looking at him, face unreadable. “See,” he said to Steve, his arms flapping at his sides. “Not useless.”

“Never said you were,” Steve replied with a raised brow. He looked to the other two and asked, “You two good?”

When Natasha and Clint affirmed they were unharmed, Steve turned around without another word and headed into the building.

“You okay?” Clint asked Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “Just a lot to get used to. You guys are pretty good at this.”

Clint shrugged with a small grin. “It’s just ten percent luck, twenty percent skill, fifteen percent concentrated power of wi–”

“Oh my god, Clint,” Natasha exclaimed, getting up from where she was wiping off her blade and turning on her heel to walk away. “No!”

“Aw, c’mon, you love that song!” Clint laughed, chasing after her.

Bucky didn’t know what song they were talking about and didn’t care to ask. He took the short time alone to shake out his trembling limbs before following.

After that, getting out of the building was easy. They made their way up a set of stairs, after pounding on the fire door to make sure there were no infected inside. The second floor was clear and they were able to get to the office with the broken window without issue. Flashlights were turned off, and the area was scoped out for any military and infected before they were dropping out of the second floor and into the plaza next door. Jumping out a second story window was not what Bucky would consider fun, but he followed the others as they dropped and did a forward roll, or some semblance of it in Clint’s case.

They skirted the edge of the plaza and the collapsed building, and through some thick shrubbery to come up on another major street, nearly six lanes wide with a wide median. Across the street was a curved building, about ten floors high. There were large storefronts along the bottom of the building, most of them either boarded up or gated closed.

“It’s about a hundred yard run to the pathway through the building,” Natasha whispered to Bucky on his left. “Keep your eyes peeled and don’t fall behind.”

Bucky nodded and, after Steve made sure the coast was clear, they ran across the street and to the left, avoiding a large ditch that took up half the block.

They had no issues while running to the pathway under the building, a designated flow through for the building it seemed, and found it unblocked by debris or filled with infected. The walls and entrances on both sides looked to have been made of glass, and all but two of the sections had been destroyed.

On the other side of the building was a small, brick road with a few cars stalled in various places between the buildings. The brick road ran behind the curved building, stemming from the main road far down on the right, and, before coming to a dead end on the left at the large building next door, veering right, and turning into a pathway wide enough just for one car.

Now, off the main road, they were able to walk instead of run, taking relaxed strides and catching their breaths. As they walked, Bucky could faintly hear the harsh breathing and muttering of infected, but since the others didn’t seem bothered, Bucky ignored it.

They were about halfway to the next street when two soldiers appeared at the end of the path, walking across their route on the street ahead. Bucky stuttered to a halt along with the rest and held his breath. The soldiers hadn’t seen them yet, but it was only a matter of time, and there was nowhere to hide. In front of him, Steve took a slow step back, then another, and Bucky covertly did the same, tip toeing backward.

It was for naught. One of the soldiers lazily swung their flashlight in their direction – bathing Natasha in light for a second, causing them to still – and moving away shortly before snapping back with a yell of, “Shit! Freeze!”

Steve spun around, and Bucky looked up at him with wide eyes, things had been going well enough up until now. He was shoved back, Steve grabbing his shirt and hauling him along as they all ran back in the direction they came. Gunfire chased them and scattered at their feet. Bucky did a full body flinch when he heard something whip pass his ear, and thankfully into the space between him and Clint.

It wasn’t far to the turn in the road when he heard the screaming and growling of runners. A flood of at least twenty runners poured out of the building on the right, between them and the soldiers. The soldier’s rate of fire increased behind them, but the soldiers were now aiming at the infected.

“Cap, a shit ton of runners!” Clint yelled.

“I know!” Steve yelled back.

“They’re splitting up,” Natasha chimed in.

Bucky took a glance over his shoulder and saw that some runners were headed their direction while others seemed to have been more attracted to the gunfire. They probably would have been able to walk by if it hadn’t been for the soldiers making so much noise.

Bucky didn’t know how far they were going to run, but Steve made the decision for them by pointing to the building on the left that they had been running alongside and yelled, “Here! Clint, James, get us in!”

“Yup!” Clint replied, and tugged on Bucky’s arm to get him to run faster. Bucky felt like his legs were going to fall off and his lungs were going to seize by the way they were now full out sprinting. He kept up with Clint, though, as he led them towards a set of wooden doors about twenty yards away. Shots were being fired behind them. Bucky risked taking a glimpse and saw Steve and Natasha walking backward down the road, finally using guns to take out the infected.

They got to a set of four doors and Bucky pulled the long, vertical handles of the two left side doors, but they were locked. Clint did the same to the other set. They were locked as well, but Bucky saw one shook under Clint’s yanks.

“That one,” Bucky said urgently, pointing to the middle door, “Try again.”

Clint nodded, put up a foot on the next door for more leverage, and began pulling with all his might. Bucky was afraid the handle would fall off before the door opened with the way he was going about it.

Bucky looked back. Steve and Natasha were almost at the doors now, he saw Steve reload his gun as if it was as easy as breathing. Further down the street, the runners kept coming, neatly stepping over the bodies Steve and Natasha had dropped along the way.

He turned back to the task, hopping of the balls of his feet before rushing forward to help. He got a hand on the handle and began pulling as well. The door seemed like it was on the verge of breaking open, but it stayed firm.

“Clint!” Steve called, almost thirty feet away now. “How we looking?”

“The fucking doors won’t open!” Clint cried.

“C’mon, put your muscles into it!”

“Not the time, man!”

“It’s always the time when we’re about to _die_!”

Bucky’s hand slipped off the handle and he stumbled back. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and looked at the door again. At the top of the door, above their heads was a square, glass window, big enough for a body to get through.

“Clint,” Bucky said as he rapidly patted his arm. He pointed up at the window. “Can we get through there?”

Clint looked up. “Couldn’t hurt to try.” He stepped back and pulled out his gun. He shot out the window, sending shards of glass everywhere, and, with the barrel of his gun, he reached up to try and dislodge any leftover glass. Then he turned around, placed his back to the door, and holstered his gun. He motioned ‘come here’ to Bucky. He cradled his hands in front of him as he had earlier that night. “Come on, you go. Make sure there’s no infected first.”

Bucky nodded and stepped onto Clint’s hands. He pushed down as Clint pushed up and, lifted, he was able to see inside the dark building with the window at chest height now. There was no movement from what he could tell, but it was so hard to tell with how dark it was inside, he could vaguely see a set of stairs, but figuring that they weren’t attracted by the noise going on and the pulling on the door wasn’t exactly unsubtle, they were probably fine. He placed his hands on the bottom of the window frame and stuck his upper body through. Once he did so, he realized there was going to be no graceful way of getting down. He reached out his hands towards the ground and wiggled his hips. Once most of his weight was inside, he practically crumpled to the ground with a yelp and a groan. He remembered to protect his neck, at least. Small mercies.

“You good?” Clint hollered.

“Yeah!” Bucky responded, even though his whole body seemed to disagree with him. He rushed to get up and try to open the doors, but they were all locked from this side, too. “They’re still locked!”

“Fuck, okay! Sending Nat through!”

Bucky looked around for something to help them come through the window, but he could barely see anything.

Natasha was suddenly in the window and Bucky rushed over to help her down. When she began shifting downward, he caught her and wrapped his arms around her torso to pull her through. He staggered a bit under her weight, but was able to prevent her from crashing to the floor as he did.

“Shit, it’s dark,” she said, once she standing on her own. Her flashlight flickered on and Bucky winced. He could finally see parts of the building. They were in a small lobby, a set of stairs that led downward directly ahead, and dark corridors to the side of them.

“Yes!” Natasha whispered and ran to grab a discarded stool down the corridor. She hurriedly brought it back, shoved her flashlight in Bucky’s hand, and set up the stool under the furthest door. She shot out the window above and stood on the stool.

“Clint, go!” she yelled out the window before firing through it to cover them.

Clint was then making his way through the window and Bucky moved to help him as he had Natasha. Steve followed immediately after, and Bucky would have fallen down under his weight while helping him get down if not for Clint helping him. From what Bucky could tell, Steve was solid muscle, and this was definitely not the time to be thinking anything more about that.

Once they were all in, Natasha stopped shooting. There was temporary silence that was only disturbed by them catching their breaths before there was a series of thumps and pounding against the doors as the infected tried to get in, but the doors stayed firm

“I’m so glad we took the long way around this morning,” Clint said. Bucky was confused, but Steve and Natasha looked amused, so he probably wasn’t meant to know.

“Alright,” Steve said, pulling out his flashlight, “let’s see if we can get through to the other side here.”

They went up the stairs and entered a large hall with a tall ceiling. The space was wide and empty with rooms to the sides, and medium sized statutes on the walls, which were unnerving in the dark.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked.

“Never been in here before,” Clint said.

Natasha put her light on a sign near one of the rooms, and after taking a few seconds to read it said, “I think it’s the courthouse.”

They reached another set of stairs in the middle of the hall. Bucky remembered seeing these kinds of staircases in movies where characters would make a grand entrance. These stairs were not so grand anymore, now marred with dried blood and partially collapsed on the left side. The collapse looked like it partially blocked a doorway that led to the rest of the floor.

“So up the stairs and further away from ground level, or try to see if we can find a way through the collapse,” Natasha proposed.

Steve wandered over and crouched, inspecting the damage. “I’d rather stay on the ground floor, who knows if we’ll ever be able to get back down once we start going up,” Steve said before placing his hand on a large plank of wood that stood just above a forty-five-degree angle, held up by the doorframe and supporting most of the debris. “If I can get this lifted, there should be enough room for us to get through.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if this was a wisest move. Surely going in a direction that was blocked meant there were infected trapped in their path. Going up the stairs took them further away from ground level, but at least they would be able to backtrack. He would have offered his thoughts to Steve if he thought that they’d be listened to, so he kept his opinion to himself.

“Clint, you first, scope it out,” Steve said, sliding in between the wall and the plank.

“Sure thing, Cap,” Clint replied with a cheeky grin, moving closer.

With a grunt and straining arms, Steve began pushing the plank, lifting with his legs. The debris shifted as he pushed, and there was a faint creaking noise as the plank went closer to vertical. Clint was quick to duck and shimmy through the gap. A few seconds later, Clint said, “Clear for now.”

Steve looked at Bucky and nodded his head to the pathway, “You next.”

Bucky hurried forward. He had to crouch a bit, but he had an easier time getting through, as he was smaller than Clint. Bucky was halfway through when the creaking noise came back, louder. He rushed the rest of the way through when he heard a loud crack. The wreckage came crashing down behind Bucky.

Clint pulled him up to his feet. Bucky looked back to see the pathway gone, the plank Steve had lifted was broken in half.

“You guys alright?” Natasha hollered.

“Yeah,” Clint said. Clint went to say more, but there was a screech and then another and another, and then clicking noises steadily getting louder.

A shiver traveled down Bucky’s spine. Oh, how he would have loved to say ‘I told you so’ right now.

“Fuck, run!” Clint exclaimed, grabbing Bucky by the arm and dragging him away to the right.

Heart in his throat, Bucky ran with Clint down the hallway. Clint’s flashlight swung wildly, searching for a place to go. They followed the hallway as it turned left.

“Try the doors,” Clint said, heading to a door on the left. Bucky sprinted to the next one, finding it locked.

Clint was running in Bucky’s direction when Bucky spotted the clickers making the turn out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t need to be told to haul ass in the other direction. He twisted doorknobs on the fly, barely slowing down to do so.

Clint blew by Bucky, but caught him by the wrist as he passed and towed him down the rest of the way, ignoring the last few doors.

The hallway turned left again. They sailed around the corner. Bucky rammed into Clint who came to a dead stop without warning. They stumbled a bit, Bucky grabbing Clint’s backpack, Clint leaning back against Bucky. Reflexively, Bucky went to apologize, but as he looked over Clint’s shoulder, his words dried up at the sight before them. Further down, the corridor was filled with both active and dormant runners. There was a little more than a handful of them spread about the hallway, the closest being about twenty feet away. Even worse, though, was the small concentration of spores building up in the middle of the cluster of runners.

Clint backed up a few steps, driving Bucky back up along with him, and went back to where they came from. The flashlight was unceremoniously shoved into Bucky’s sweaty hand with the murmured command of, “Light ‘em up.”

As Clint moved up a couple steps, Bucky whirled the light around, over Clint’s shoulder, and toward the clickers barreling down the hallway. There were three of them, and they were close enough now that Bucky could see the spittle come out of the first clicker’s mouth as it croaked.

The next sequence of events was a blur. Bucky went for his knife, making sure to keep the light on the clickers. Clint had already loosed an arrow at the first, which went down quickly. The second was downed an arm’s length away. The last crashed into Clint, tackling him. Clint let out a painful gasp as the pair hit the floor, and fought it from below. Bucky dropped the flashlight and rushed to help, driving his knife into the base of its skull. It fell still on top of Clint.

Clint’s his breathing was too ragged for Bucky’s liking, but Bucky couldn’t see his face well with the flashlight pointed toward their feet.

“Fuck, Clint,” Bucky whispered, panicked. He kneeled and pushed the dead clicker off to the side. “You alright?”

Clint clutched at his chest as he breathed deeply and pulled at his clothes. “Yeah, yeah,” he breathed. “I’m fine.”

Bucky nodded and took a moment to catch his breath. That was too fucking close.

“Hey,” Clint said, after a minute, “help me up.”

Bucky stood up and lowered a hand to pulled Clint up onto his feet. As Clint got himself situated, Bucky picked back up the flashlight. He held it out to Clint, but Clint waived him off with a, “You hold on to it.”

They retraced their steps. There was a door for a stairwell, but the door was locked. They followed the hallway past where they came in to the other side of the building, moving carefully. Thankfully, the stairwell on the other side was open, so they were able to head up to the next level.

“Clint?” Bucky heard whispered as they entered the hallway.

To their left, Natasha and Steve were just turning the corner, heading in their direction. The relief was palpable all around.

Natasha practically ran to Clint to wrap him in a hug. “We’re not splitting up again,” Natasha said into Clint’s shoulder.

Clint huffed, holding onto her tightly. “I don’t think that’s something you can control.”

Steve gave Clint a small smile over Natasha’s shoulder, surprising Bucky. It was probably the first time he ever saw Steve smile, even a little.

“Come on,” Steve eventually said, “let’s get out of here. We found a way out.”

Together, they went back to the set of stairs that split them up in the first place and walked across a long hall. There were a couple of fresh dead runners laying around, signaling to Bucky that Steve and Natasha were not idle in their search for a way to get to them. Another set of short stairs, leading down, was blocked by debris, but this time, there was already an easy path that didn’t require any maneuvering.

“Wait,” Bucky whisper shouted, as Steve went through the path first. Steve paused and looked back at him. Bucky glanced at Clint before saying, “There’re runners to the right. We almost ran into them.”

Steve looked at Bucky for a moment longer before nodding. Bucky was pleased to see that Steve listened to him, watching as he moved to the left side of the stairs.

Getting out was simple from there. Like the entrance, this staircase led directly to the back entrance. These doors were locked. Applying sufficient force, Steve was able to get them open. With the door closed behind them, Bucky felt as though he was able to breathe again, and the sun, beginning to rise and flood the sky with oranges and reds, soothed him.

“There it is,” Steve said quietly, pointing down the short street. Bucky looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a building about five floors high a block away, standing where the street dead ended. Seeing the capitol building released some tension from Bucky’s shoulders. He could feel the escape in his grasp.

The walk to the building didn’t take long, but they took their time, pausing at odd noises and walking around uneven parts of the road. A park with overgrown bushes sat in front of the building, a low, black metal fence with stone columns surrounding the edge, and sitting front and center, was a closed, black gate. They were able to hop over the low fence and walk through was what left of the cement walkways.

In the middle of the park sat a tall pillar with a statute of an eagle sitting on top. It seemed to excite Clint a great deal, because he slapped Steve on the shoulder while grinning and pointing up at it, saying, “Hey, it’s your statute.”

Steve did nothing more than roll his eyes and say, “Shut up.”

A double staircase lay before the entrance was. Bucky was reminded of mansions he’d seen in history books. It matched the building’s colonial feel, too, not that he knew much about the subject, much of history fell to the way side due to the outbreak. His fascination with space aside, he knew he probably didn’t have much more than a middle school education. Schools in the zone hadn’t started up until a few years after the outbreak, and even then, most were notoriously bad at teaching anything beyond the basics of math and English.

They wound their way up the short staircase and entered through the, thankfully, unlocked door. Inside was a square entryway where a large, headless bust greeted them from the middle of the room. Bucky deduced that they were not the main entrance. There were no signs like the courthouse to tell them where they were or where to go. There was nothing but two hallways branching out to the left and right on the far side of the room.

“Well,” Clint said, looking both directions. “Where do we start?”

Natasha turned on her flashlight as it was still a bit dark inside, and shined it to the left. “The main entrance is down that way, I think. Maybe we should check there first?”

“Probably a good idea,” Steve agreed and began to lead the way with his own light.

Bucky fell into line the way they had been all night, slotting himself behind Natasha and holding onto his flashlight and knife. They passed by a few older dead bodies here and there, but nothing fresh or alive. He kept his ears open, but heard nothing to indicate humans or infected nearby.

They made their way up a set of stairs and continued southward. The walls held up placards and paintings, and the open doors they passed by contained destroyed furniture and trash.

Eventually the hallway opened up on the right to a staircase that led downward, and connected with another staircase on the other side to the landing of a grand staircase. Their steps were slow and measured as they made their way down to another small hall with two chandeliers and white pillars.

Steve gradually halted a few steps away from the stairs, staring straight ahead. Natasha moved to one side of him, so Bucky moved to the other. When he stood next to Steve, he understood why he had come to a stop. Bucky, himself, was stunned.

The next room over was a little brighter, from some unseen windows somewhere, Bucky assumed. It was a large circular room with copper toned walls and pillars lining the room. The floor had colorful, patterned marble, but the dozen or so dead bodies strewn about and the surrounding pools of blood tarnished the effect.

Bucky couldn’t move. He felt his hopes die on the floor with the dead SHIELD team. He thought he was getting out, leaving Boston to do something better than stare down the barrel of a gun all day. Now, he didn’t know what was going to happen to him. The others only took him this far on the promise of handing him off. After the night they had together, he wanted to believe that they would let him stick around and at least take him back into the zone, but they also might reckon that he wasn’t worth the trouble.

He was awakened from his momentary daze when Clint breathed, “No,” from behind them and ran to the bodies.

“Clint,” Natasha called after him, gently. When Clint fell to his knees next to the nearest body, she followed him. As Clint began searching the body, Bucky’s feet unglued themselves from the floor and he walked closer.

Natasha was hovering over Clint, trying to placate Clint with a hand on his shoulder as he rummaged through the man’s pockets, muttering to himself.

“There’s gotta be something,” he snapped. He crawled over to the next body and began to search through her pockets as well. “A map, or a clue of where they’re hiding out now.”

Steve materialized by Clint’s side and pulled him away from the body. “Clint,” he said gently, but firmly. “They’re gone. We’re done here.”

“No, no we’re not,” Clint replied, hurriedly. Still on his knees, Clint looked to Bucky, his eyes wide and frantic. “Did Fury say where they were going to take you?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, just that there was a lab out west.”

“Shit,” Clint huffed and slumped further to the floor.

“Clint,” Natasha said soothingly. “There’s nothing more we can do here, we have to leave.”

Bucky could see that Natasha and Steve were worried about Clint, and they were right to be. Even from what little Bucky knew of Clint, he could tell that something was wrong with him. He was acting erratically, nothing like his usual affable self.

“C’mon.” Steve wrapped his hand around Clint’s right bicep and pulled him up. Clint shoved him off as soon as he was upright.

“We can’t just stop,” Clint said. “This is our chance to do something good for once. Like we used to.”

Natasha stepped closer to Clint. “We did. We came here. You know they’re not going to have anything on them about where to go next. Our best shot is going back to the zone and hope that Fury hasn’t left yet.”

Clint scoffed. “You know he has.”

“We tried,” Steve resolutely said. “Now, if we don’t keep moving, we’ll die here with them.”

Clint sniffed and smiled bitterly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Clint,” Natasha warned.

“I mean it.”

In the breaking light, Bucky could see a patch of blood on Clint’s collar that wasn’t there when they left the zone. Bucky took a step back in shock. “Oh shit,” he gasped, a hand flying up to cover his mouth in realization. In his mind’s eye, he saw Clint gasping in pain underneath the clicker, but he wasn’t in pain from the fall.

With everyone watching him, Bucky looked at Clint and said softly, “The clicker bit you.”


	3. Sam's Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please make sure you've read Chapter 2 which was posted only a few hours ago ❤️

Steve didn’t want to believe a word James said; it was absurd. However, as Clint smiled wanly, Steve’s stomach sank to the floor.

“Luck had to run out some time, huh,” Clint said, chuckling mirthlessly.

“This isn’t funny, Clint,” Natasha warned.

Clint sobered up, but his expression was drawn. He stared at Natasha for a moment before pulling his shirt’s collar to the side, showing them all a deep, bloody bite to his trapezius. Steve gasped silently, shocked.

“No, no,” Natasha said in disbelief, her eyes wide. She kept repeating the word and Clint’s name, staggering forward and stopping before doing it again.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve said, distraught. Steve ran his hands over his face and turned around as if the bite would disappear if he couldn’t see it.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. They weren’t even supposed to be out here. They were supposed to get their guns from Jasper and go home – not be sent out on a wild goose chase around the city. Clint would’ve been fine at home, safe and sound in the zone.

He was a dead man walking now.

Steve’s blood boiled at the thought. They did all this work only for one of their own to get bit. There was nothing to balance the debt they paid and the reward of a dead SHIELD team and an allegedly immune kid on their hands. Fury wasn’t even around for him to take his frustrations out on. He wanted to punch something – scream – but that wouldn’t solve anything. Clint would still be gone.

“You can’t stay with me,” Steve heard Clint implore, jarring him back to reality.

Turning back, Clint was trying to keep Natasha at a distance, but Natasha finally wormed herself close enough to fist the front of his shirt.

“Shut up, you think we’re letting you do this alone?” Natasha asked. “We made a promise, remember?”

Clint sniffled. “That’s not important anymore. What’s important is getting James to SHIELD.”

“No, Clint,” Steve interrupted. “We’re staying with you, and then we’re going home.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve, look at me!” Clint cried, pointing to his face, he was unusually sweaty and pale. “This bite is thirty minutes old and it’s already worse than his is,” he continued, gesturing at James.

Steve was silent, his jaw hurting from how tightly it was clenched. He tried to figure a way out of what he knew was inevitably coming. When Steve had left SHIELD, he swore he’d have nothing to do with them again. He considered taking James this far to be a kindness. Taking him all the way across the country, that would be serving them all over again.

“I know SHIELD did some unforgivable things,” Clint said, “but I know you’re not dumb enough to believe that this isn’t real. We have a chance to do something good for the first time in a very long time. Not just making sure the doc gets medicine. A real chance for everybody to survive this hell. Don’t let your pride get in the way of that. Don’t give up.

“You two should take him to Tony, last I heard he bunkered down near Portland. He’ll know where SHIELD’S been hiding lately. He’s probably in on this cure thing, too, anyway.”

“Clint’s right about one thing,” Natasha said, and everyone looked to her. “We need to get James to SHIELD, but I’m not going, Steve will take him.”

Before Steve could say anything, Clint charged up to Natasha. “You’re not staying with me.”

“Since when have you ever been able to tell me what to do?” Natasha asked, coolly.

“Don’t make this harder than it is.” He grasped her arms tightly.

Natasha swallowed and blinked rapidly, holding back tears.

She cradled Clint’s face in her hands and gently said, “We promised each other, we’d be there for each other in the end, and I’m not breaking that promise. We’ll cause a distraction for the other two, leave a false trail, and go to our safe house down south. You like it there, remember? It’s by the beach. The view’s nice.” Her smile was watery, but genuine.

“That’s not a beach,” Clint countered, but he was smiling back at her.

“There’s sand. That makes it a beach.”

“I guess I don’t have a say in anything,” Steve cut in, dryly. He was used to being the one making the decisions for the team, usually. That wasn’t to say that the others didn’t make decisions from time to time, but, after giving their opinions on the matter, they were normally happy to default to his judgment when it came to big decisions. The plans they were discussing now weren’t only a big decision, though, they were life altering for him.

Clint and Natasha pulled out of their little world, drawing away from each other. Natasha half-smiled at Steve. “Not this time, Cap.”

Clint walked over to Steve. “Do this for me. Please,” he said. Then he smiled, a little sly, a little sad. “Think of it as my dying wish.”

Steve made a noise halfway between a scoff and a sob, dropping his head at the reminder that Clint was dying. God, Clint was such an asshole for pulling the dying card on him, but he made his point. It didn’t matter Steve’s personal feelings for SHIELD, James had to get to them one way or another. The possibility of a cure outweighed any ill will he harbored.

After a few moments of silence, Steve cleared his throat and looked up. He tried to smile, but was afraid it appeared to be more of a grimace. “One condition.”

“What?”

“You tell me what you did before all this,” Steve said, properly smiling when Clint began laughing.

“Deal,” Clint agreed. “I was a carnie. Did an archery show.” Steve looked doubtful and Clint’s smile grew wider. “I swear, ask Nat.”

Shaking his head, Steve chuckled. Thinking about it, it made total sense. His ability to make friends with almost anyone, his laid-back personality, the random tidbits of information he knew about living rough and on the go, and, of course, not to mention, his killer aim.

Steve’s brief joy faded into remorse and guilt. He was responsible for his team, and he let them down. One wrong decision and his friend paid the cost with his life.

“Aw, man,” Clint said. “Don’t look at me like that. Come here.”

Clint opened his arms and tugged Steve into a hug, careful to keep Steve away from his bite. The embrace was tight and comforting, even though Steve knew that he shouldn’t need to be the one comforted. He wasn’t the dying one. Steve closed his eyes and wished his thoughts away, burying his face in Clint’s neck.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Steve whispered, his throat tightening.

“Me too, buddy.”

Steve sniffed and pulled back to rest his forehead against Clint’s, his hands coming up to grasp Clint’s head. They stood there silently for a moment, Natasha’s murmuring in the background.

“Love you, man,” Clint whispered.

“Love you, too.”

Steve patted Clint softly as they began to pull away from each other, but he then, impulsively, drew Clint’s head down to press a fond kiss to his forehead, before stepping back and wiping discreetly at the corners of his eyes.

“Take care of yourself, and James, okay?” Clint’s eyes were just as wet.

Steve’s lips quirked for a second as he nodded.

“Alright,” Natasha said, walking up behind Clint and lightly shoving him out of the way. “Stop hogging him.”

They all snickered as Steve stooped slightly to give Natasha a firm hug. They held each other for a short while, finding solace in another person left behind. Missing the other even though they hadn’t even separated yet.

“You come back, okay?” Natasha said before leaning back. “And if I’m no longer here, I’ll leave a note at the safe house, and if there’s no note…” She looked away briefly with a shrug. “Then don’t hang around waiting.”

Steve looked down at her, sullen. He was losing his best friends in one fell swoop. Sure, Natasha wasn’t dying, but she wouldn’t be there as his right-hand woman any longer. There was no telling what could happen between now and time they would meet again. If they ever did meet again. She could die trying to get to the safe house and he wouldn’t even know it. So though his hopes were in short supply these days, he hoped for the best.

“I will,” Steve told her. “Stay safe.”

Natasha gave him her signature smile, before she stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “You too.”

“Perfect!” Clint exclaimed in the background.

Clint teaching James how to use his bow then captured their attention. He hovered by James’ drawn back elbow, fixing his stance and pushing his body this way and that. It was a bit endearing to watch. Clint was an encouraging instructor and James was attentive for each nugget of information.

“I lucked out, didn’t I,” Natasha said, hushed.

Steve looked at her contemplatively. Her normally passive face was clearly full of adoration as she watched Clint. “Yeah,” Steve rasped. “I think we both did.”

Natasha smiled up at him, and reached over to give his hand a quick squeeze.

“Okay, try hitting that green bag over there. Closer to the logo the better,” Clint said, stepping away and pointing to a large, dark green duffle bag near the edge of the room, almost thirty feet away from James.

James nodded and set himself up, planting his feet shoulder width apart, standing tall and holding the string firmly as he pulled it back. His breathing was visible, his chest expanding and deflating steadily. They watched intently as James loosed the arrow.

There was a satisfying _thunk_ followed by a whoop from Clint. Steve walked over to the duffle bag and studied the shot. James, it seemed, had taken to the bow like a duck to water. The logo was about two inches wide and an inch tall. James had hit just an inch above the logo and listed off to the left a bit, but it was a solid hit. For a stationary target.

Steve extracted the arrow and brought it over to where the others had congregated. Upon approach, he noticed that James had Clint’s full quiver hung over his shoulder.

“Giving up your bow?” Steve asked Clint, holding the arrow out to James who looked up at him with mild surprise before taking it.

Clint shrugged. “Yeah, James has good eyes, so it’ll be in good hands.” Even though he tried to be upbeat about it, Steve could hear the despondency in his voice. For as long as he’d known Clint, he’d always had that bow, keeping it despite the many repairs it needed. Now, knowing his previous life, it was likely his own bow. Steve couldn’t fault him for not wanting to part with it.

Suddenly, there was a muffled squeal of brakes, the slam of car doors, and indistinct shouting.

Steve’s body coiled as he eyed the front entrance. “Time to go,” he ordered before jogging back in the direction they came in, the others following him. “We’ll go out the west wing, you two go down the east side and try to exit out the back.”

At the staircase, Steve paused briefly and took a minute to study the other two. He soaked in their features, trying to brand their faces into his memory. They were doing the same with him, he noticed.

He smiled half-heartedly and nodded once. “Good luck.”

“See you around,” Natasha said.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Clint added, grinning, “like get bit.”

Natasha elbowed him, but Clint merely snickered. “Too soon, asshole.”

Not even impending death could change Clint’s sense of humor.

The sound of the front doors opening, finally spurred them into motion, and after taking one last look at each other, they dispersed.

Natasha and Clint ran up the staircase, guns in hand.

Steve led James around the stairs and into a hallway on the left.

Together, they fled the city and headed west.

  
Art by [maichan](https://maichan808.tumblr.com)

They spent the night in a house off highway 20 on the outskirts of Boston. It was one Steve had used before and was confident was fortified enough to get them through the night.

Neither of them spoke a lot during the journey there. James had asked questions, in the beginning, like about where they were going or what the plan was, but when they stopped to take a break, and James had attempted to apologize about Clint, Steve had shut him up fast with a stern, “Don’t – talk to me about Clint.”

He still hadn’t processed much of what happened that morning. There was still a part of him that was stuck in denial and a larger part that blamed himself.

It had been a long time since Steve lost someone he loved. In the beginning, after the outbreak, there was still a sense of humanity and community between people. It was easy for him to build bonds with others and lead them in the fight against the military and the infected. Over time, though, the losses became insurmountable and relationships fractured. It felt like a piece of him disappeared alongside every friend or innocent life that died or gave up the fight. It was a lot to carry. So, to nobody’s surprise, nowadays, he didn’t let himself care about many people, because when he did, he cared deeply and fiercely. In Boston, Clint and Natasha were it for him.

The next morning, while splitting a small ration of crackers James had in his bag, Steve went over the plan at the dining table. They were going to continue down the highway to where his friends Sam and Riley lived, in one of the suburbs outside Boston proper. Steve hoped Sam and Riley had a running car. Getting west was going to take too long if they had to go by foot the whole way.

“Just to be clear,” Steve said, wiping his hand on his pants. “You stick to me like glue while we’re out there and do exactly what I say, when I say it. And don’t go telling people about your – immunity. They’ll just think you’re crazy and probably try to kill you. Understand?”

James stared stonily at him, jaw clenched. He knew that James wasn’t happy with Steve’s rules. Had they still been in the zone, or if Clint or Natasha were still with them, he might have even said something, fought back. Here, alone, with only Steve as his guide, there wasn’t much protesting he could do, and Steve needed him to know that he was in charge. Life outside the zone was too dangerous and chaotic for Steve to be traveling with a loose cannon.

When James was silent for too long, Steve asked, “Do you understand?”

James sighed. “Yes, _Captain_.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve retorted, eyebrow raised. James flushed, and Steve’s eyes lingered over the redness of his cheeks far longer than he was comfortable. He looked away, clearing his throat, and stood from the table. “C’mon, let’s get moving.”

They walked along highway 20, going as fast as they could in the summer heat, slowing their pace sometimes to detour around roadblocks and heavily infected areas, which usually occurred where towns cropped up along the highway. If they came across only a couple of infected at once, ones that Steve could handle on his own, he’d tell James to leave it to him. There was some glaring and minor grumbling, but the most important thing was that James listened. Even when he didn’t like it, James followed directions, easing Steve’s concerns about whether James would be a hindrance in the end.

Like the day before, conversation was sparse. Steve didn’t talk much on a good day, and the loss of Clint and Natasha made him even more unsociable. He had a feeling James would have been more talkative if Steve hadn’t intimidated him into silence. As much as Steve disliked the situation, it was going to be a long trip if they didn’t learn to get along enough to tolerate each other’s presence.

In the early afternoon, they passed a familiar, rare bookstore. Steve realized they were close. When he glanced at James, he discovered an unexpected expression of wonder on his face. Steve had seen it once before, earlier that day. James soaked in everything around them with a small smile on his face, as if the world were new.

Steve scanned the area around them. The trees on the sides of the road had grown tall, wild, and chockfull of color. There were birds chirping and the gentle sound of leaves rustling in the wind. The air was clean, though heavy with heat. If you took away the rusted cars and broken shops, Steve would admit that it was a beautiful sight.

After another glance, and still seeing the same look on his face, Steve asked, “What’re you smiling about?”

James looked surprised to be asked such a question. Looking back at their surroundings, James shrugged. “Kinda forgot that this is what the world really looks like, y’know? Green and lush. Not a bunch of bombed out buildings.”

Steve hummed, kicking a rock with a lazy swing of his leg. “You grow up in a place like this?”

“No,” James replied. “I remember there were some trees, but it was more flatland, really. As far as the eye could see.” Steve nodded to himself, thinking that James must have grown up somewhere in the Midwest, or even the South. “What about you? Did you ever live in a place like this?”

Steve shook his head. “No, I was always a city boy. Didn’t see anything different until I graduated high school.”

It was James’ turn to hum shortly before asking hesitantly, “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

An involuntary smile teased the corners of Steve’s mouth as James rolled his eyes. “Ha-ha, so funny,” James said, sarcasm dripping on every word, “haven’t heard that one before.”

“Gotta take my shots while I can.”

“But, seriously,” James continued, hanging his head and swaying his body as he walked. “I was just wondering…I was wondering why you didn’t go back to the zone, or take me back there? I know you didn’t want to take me out to the capitol building in the first place.”

Steve sighed and rubbed a hand over his beard, considering his words. He was still a mess of thoughts and emotions, not entirely sure if he had an answer to that question.

“You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to,” James then said, and Steve shook his head.

“It’s like Clint said,” Steve said eventually. “It’s the right thing to do.”

The reminder of Clint silenced them for the rest of their journey.

A mile down the road, they turned right, heading away from the shops that lined the street and towards the houses that littered the land. The residences here were sprawling and homey looking, usually two stories tall with large lawns full of dead grass and yards away from any neighbors. It was a big change from the dense housing in the zone.

Spotting the familiar church in the distance, Steve pointed to it and said, “They live across from the church.” He then pointed across the road to where a high wooden fence had been erected around the perimeter of land. It had hundreds of wooden stakes and poles pointed outward. As they drew closer, they could see two dead infected impaled on them.

“Trespassers shot on sight,” James said, reading the words that had been spray painted across the front of the fence in bright red. “That’s real friendly.”

“Yeah, well, you never know who you’re gonna come across,” Steve replied, shrugging.

They came to a stop in front of the fence and Steve whistled loudly, twice, before yelling, “Sam?! Riley?!”

It took a minute before a black man poked his head over the top of the fence above them. Steve smiled at the sight of him. “Hi, Sam.”

“Well, if it ain’t Captain America, as I live and breathe,” Sam replied, grinning and resting his arms on top of the fence.

James snorted, making Steve sigh in resignation. He hated all his so-called friends.

“Captain _America_ ,” James laughed, but after receiving a fierce look from Steve, he quieted down, barely tampering down an amused smile.

Steve looked back up to Sam. “Got room for two?”

“For you? Always,” Sam replied before disappearing.

There was some noise of metal hitting metal, and then part of the fence was swinging outward, hinged at the corner. Sam was pushing it back and opening up an entryway wide enough for a car.

Sam waved them over. “Get your asses in here.”

Inside the fence were a modestly sized, two-story house and a detached garage of about the same size, both faded red. The fence lined the edge of the property and a small platform ran alongside it, accessible by a few set of stairs. A lavish garden filled up almost the entire yard and there was a small chicken coop by the house.

“Wow, this has really grown since the last time I was here,” Steve commented. He had visited a couple of years ago and the garden was only half of the size it was now.

“Thanks, we put a lot of work into it,” Sam replied from behind him, locking up the gate.

Steve looked over his shoulder at Sam. He looked different to how Steve remembered, his hair had grown out a little and his beard was in rough shape, but, more importantly, a heavy weight sat noticeably on his shoulders.

“It’s good to see you, Sam,” Steve said with genuine sincerity.

Sam smiled, wide and gap-toothed. “You, too,” Sam replied as he approached Steve and gave him a hug so firm and comforting that Steve unconsciously ducked his head down to rest it on his shoulder for a moment before they parted.

“Who’s your friend?” Sam asked, looking at James who was awkwardly standing near the fence.

“This is James. James, Sam.” As they greeted each other, Steve looked around once again and noticed the lack of someone else. Once they were finished, he asked Sam, “Is Riley out?”

Sam visibly dimmed at the question and Steve’s stomach sank, his mood dropping alongside Sam’s. He suddenly wanted to take the question back because he knew that any answer he got wasn’t going to be good. For this to happen so soon after Clint was a blow to the stomach.

“Why don’t we get inside?” Sam suggested, not waiting for anyone to respond before heading toward the house. With barely a glimpse at James, Steve trailed after him, dreading every step.

The house was well furnished and lived in. Steve remembered that they found the place in decent shape to begin with, only needing to throw away and deep clean a few things. However, knowing that something happened with Riley, Steve could see the signs of depression and mourning around the house. The place was so clean Steve could probably eat off the floor, but the book that Riley was probably in the middle of had been left open and facedown on the coffee table in the way that always drove Sam crazy.

Before anything was said, Sam immediately took them to the kitchen to give them glasses of water, which Steve guzzled down so fast that he spilled some onto his shirt.

“James,” Steve said, after Sam handed them a refill, “why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest? There’s a guestroom upstairs on the right.”

James looked relieved to skedaddle from what would probably be a tense conversation. He glanced at Sam, who merely nodded in agreement, before going up the stairs. Steve could hear James closing the guestroom door behind him and the creak of the floor as he moved about the room.

“C’mon, let’s sit,” Sam said, and, after getting himself his own cup of water, he went into the living room to sit on the couch. Steve followed and sat down on the other end, his gaze falling to the facedown book in front of him.

Steve braced himself for the news about Riley, gripping the glass in his hand a little tighter. He’d met Sam and Riley, who were already a couple, just outside D.C. It had been two years after the outbreak. Sam was trying to keep back a group of five or so infected on his own as Riley attempted to open a locked door when Steve and his team stumbled across them. Sam and Riley’s decision to join up with SHIELD was almost instantaneous after they were escorted to safety, fitting into the team seamlessly and getting on like a house on fire with Steve, Clint, and Natasha.

Steve knew he had to tell Sam about Clint. They hadn’t been as good friends as Riley and Clint were, but they were close enough that Clint nearly hugged Sam for five minutes straight when he learned that Sam and Riley decided to strike out on their own for a bit.

“Since you’re surprised Riley isn’t here, I guess he never went to the zone,” Sam said ruefully.

“Shit,” Steve sighed and shook his head. “No, we never saw him.”

Sam nodded and dropped his gaze to his wringing hands. “We were having fights about leaving here. He said we were only supposed to be here for a little while, to recuperate a bit before going back out. Kept saying that there were people out there we could be helping, and since we’re capable, we should be doing something.” He paused, running a hand over his face. “I agreed, but I just wanted to stay here a little longer, with him and without all the shit we faced out there, y’know? We did a lot to get here, I still get exhausted thinking about it, and I just wanted to rest, but I guess I…I guess I wanted to stay in this fantasy world for just a little bit longer.” He laughed humorlessly at himself.

“I don’t blame you for that,” Steve said.

Sam’s lips twisted. “I should have known better, though. He was right. I was scared to leave. Scared of dying, scared of losing Riley…Lost him anyway.” He scoffed, and Steve could see his eyes glistening. “He left about two months ago. We were fighting and he grabbed his gear and stormed out. When he didn’t come back that night, I went to look for him the next day, but I couldn’t find him. I searched for weeks, even looking at the infected, but – nothing. No sign or anything.” He sniffled and wiped around his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I know how much you love each other,” Steve said, lowly and sincerely, shaking his head. He remembered Riley’s bright smiles and positive attitude that even an apocalypse couldn’t dampen. He couldn’t imagine being in Sam’s shoes, wondering where his other half went, having no closure.

“Thanks. Me too. Just hope he’s alright, wherever he is.”

Steve nodded as they fell into silence. He took a sip of his water and placed it on the coffee table. His throat tightened as his thoughts turned to Clint. The only consolation he had was that, unlike Riley, he knew that Clint was dead.

“Clint’s gone,” Steve rasped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam whip his head around. “What? When?” he asked, his voice was surprised and stricken.

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “Yesterday, he got bit while we were trying to leave the zone. Military were on us from the get go because of some SHIELD presence. Him and Nat went one way to create a distraction for us and they went down to a safe house.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Sam sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“Yeah,” he choked out. “He was with Natasha, at least.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before, weighed down by the losses they suffered in such a short timeframe.

“What the fuck are we drinking water for,” Sam said suddenly. He got up and went into the kitchen while Steve continued to stew in silence. He looked up when Sam returned and shoved a glass of amber liquid under his nose.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Sam sat back down, his own glass in hand and placed the bottle of whiskey on the table. There were only a couple glasses left in the bottle. He didn’t want to think about how much was in there before Riley left.

Sam held up his glass in a toast between them. “To Clint,” he said.

Steve copied Sam. “To Clint.” Then he hesitated, watching Sam as he added faintly, “To Riley.”

The words froze Sam for a moment, but then he blinked and sniffed. He repeated the words back so softly that Steve could barely make them out.

They toasted and drank deeply.

Steve swirled the liquid in his glass, missing Clint, Riley, and their lighthearted banter. The way they could lighten up someone’s mood within seconds. He already missed Clint’s laughter, and the way he complained about long-lost pizza. He was so fucking special.

He chuckled to himself. “Remember just after we all just met and Riley bet Clint all his good socks that he couldn’t shoot down that squirrel from over forty yards away.”

“He swindled us!” Sam immediately protested.

“It’s not our fault you underestimated him!”

For the rest of the afternoon, they reminisced about Clint and Riley, talking about the good and the bad. At dinnertime, they retreated into the kitchen, pulling together a meal for three. The scent of food must have reached upstairs because James hesitantly appeared in the kitchen’s doorway.

Sam got James to set up the table with silverware as Steve helped divvy up the food between three plates. It had been a while since he had such a good-looking meal, the rabbit was fresh and the onions and bell peppers on the side were as good as he remembered seeing at a farmer’s market.

Steve and Sam picked back up on old stories as they ate. Sam did most of the talking while Steve chimed in time to time, mostly to defend himself. James seemed content to listen mostly, only asking questions here and there and laughing in all the right places.

“The roof collapses under him and he falls in,” Sam said to James, who was obviously hanging on to his every word. “We’re all on the opposite roof still, freaking out because we can hear at least three or four clickers and Steve just shooting up the place. Then it all goes quiet a few minutes later, and I’m not sure any of us are even breathing at this point. But, all of a sudden, this asshole’s head pops up out of the hole and he says to us, ‘Do any of you have an extra pair of pants?’” Sam looked to Steve incredulously as James busted up laughing. Steve smiled to himself, glancing briefly at James before looking back down at the table, remembering the looks of shock on the other’s faces when he showed himself to be all right.

“Long story short,” Sam said, turning back to James and pushing his empty plate away from him. “Watch out for this guy. He does crazy shit all the time and doesn’t think he needs help.”

“That’s because I don’t,” Steve replied.

“Uh-huh, right,” Sam said sarcastically. He leaned back in his chair as Steve grabbed a peach from the bowl in the middle of the table and took a large bite. “So, I never asked, where y’all headed? Not that I don’t love seein’ your ugly mug.”

“West. Was wondering if you had a car or know if there’s something with wheels and a running motor we could steal from around here.”

Sam shook his head. “Not a lot of that around here, most tires have deteriorated by now or their batteries have died. There’s a large mechanic’s shop and a small dealership a street over, with a bunch of cars, but those mostly have dead batteries. However, a few months ago Riley and I spotted a Humvee at the high school. We think the military was out looking for supplies and crashed it there during the winter. But you remember, though, those cars always carry those portable battery chargers with them.”

Steve took a bite out of his peach, absentmindedly wiping up some of the overflowing juice on his chin with the back of his hand. What Sam said was correct, the military had created solar powered battery chargers that could charge anything from radios to flood lights to car batteries, and kept one in each of their Humvees in case of emergency. They were highly coveted and one of the most sought-after items on the market.

“So, what’s the issue?” he asked. “Why haven’t you gotten it yet?”

“The issue is it’s crashed in the middle of a high school parking lot crawling with infected.” Sam paused. “But I’m thinkin’ you’re crazy enough to try and get it.”

Steve almost rolled his eyes. As if Sam wouldn’t be right behind him if he ran in head first with only a baseball bat.

“Seriously?” James interrupted. “That’s the only thing that can get us a working car here?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want to suddenly reveal that you’re a mechanic who knows how to fix up an engine, then yeah, that’s the only way you’re getting a running car.”

“How many infected are we talking here?” Steve put an end to the argument before it even began. It would take extra time to do a search through the town for a working car. Having the charger would be easier to pick almost any random car that looked to be in good shape with gas and get it going.

“Last time I went by, there were maybe twenty? Mostly runners, a couple clickers.”

Steve nodded to himself as he continued eating his peach in big bites. It was doable, if they were smart and able to resupply. The earlier ambush outside the courthouse had cut into his supply of ammo.

He tossed the peach pit onto his empty plate. “You got supplies?” he asked Sam, who nodded in reply. “Good, then we’ll stock up and head out right after breakfast. The more time we have to charge the battery during the day, the better.”

Sam grinned. “Man, I missed hearing you make plans.”

Steve smiled fondly at Sam. He got up front his seat, grabbing his empty plate to take it to the sink, and as he walked by Sam, he nudged him in the shoulder.

The table was quickly cleared after that, and the dishes were washed and put away.

With the impending early morning, they decided to retire early. The house was set up to allow them a short shower each. Steve diligently washed himself off with Sam’s handmade soap, which smelt better than the rationed ones, and dressed himself in some of Sam’s spare clothes to sleep in. He took the second spare bedroom, which was next door to James’, and shook off the dusty cover and pillow before crawling in.

His body was slow to relax. Part of him thought, with his shitty sleep the night before, he would have been able to fall straight to sleep that night in the comfort of a secure, familiar home, but his mind kept whirring, most likely in spite of that. He tossed and turned for hours before falling into an uneasy sleep.

It was no time at all before he was waking up, groggy and sleep deprived, eating breakfast with the others in silence. He felt slightly detached from everything happening at the moment, like he was still in a dream, and waiting to wake up to see Clint walking through the door with Natasha and Riley not far behind.

His mood must have been noticeable because, as they were cleaning up their dishes, Sam asked if he was okay. Steve reassured him that he was fine, and tried his best to push his melancholy thoughts to the back of his mind. It wouldn’t do well to be distracted today.

Sam led them out to the garage so that they could resupply. The garage was mostly empty, but for a wall that held a small arsenal of weapons in a place where tools once hung and beside it, a tall tool cabinet that Steve remembered held the knives and bullets.

“Don’t touch anything,” Steve said to James who looked eager to get his hands on a gun.

James’ eyebrows drew together as he glared up at Steve. “You want me to face a bunch of infected without a gun?”

Steve minutely rolled his eyes as he went over to the cabinet to grab some more bullets. Sam was beside him taking down a couple weapons and prepping them on the table in front of him. “You’re not going to be facing a bunch of infected. If anything, you’re back up and you’ve got the bow for distance.”

“I was wondering,” Sam said to Steve conversationally, still focused on checking over his sawed-off shotgun, “if that was Clint’s.”

As Steve hummed to him in affirmation, James continued, “I can handle a gun.”

“So you say, but I don’t know that. I’m not going to let you run around with a gun at a time like this.” He finished reloading one of his magazines and moved onto the next.

“That’s fucked up!” James scoffed. “I don’t understand why you keep treating me like I’m some helpless child.”

Steve spun on his heel, abandoning his things on the table, and strode up to James who wavered slightly on his feet, but didn’t back down from Steve’s towering form. He looked up at Steve defiantly, cheeks pink and jaw clenched.

“What did I say yesterday?” Steve rumbled with an intense stare.

James stayed quiet and motionless, but he looked ready to burst into another rant at any moment.

“That’s what I thought,” Steve said, then went back to packing.

Sam spoke up a minute later after he strapped a gun to his thigh. “So, what’s the deal with you two? I didn’t think you were going to ever really leave Boston if you could help it.”

“Just a job.”

“Really? Going all the way out west with some random guy for a job?”

Steve shrugged as he holstered his gun to his chest.

“Must be some reward.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Steve replied, wearily.

When they finished gearing up and replenishing their stock, Sam waved them over to a corner where a tarp was covering some objects. “I’ve got some bikes we can ride over there to save some time,” he said before asking, “James, can you ride a bike?”

James looked excited. “Hell yeah.”

Sam nodded before flinging the tarp away. Underneath, were a handful of slightly rusty bicycles.

“Oh,” James said, his shoulders slumping. He then said offhandedly, “You know, when you said bikes, I thought you meant _bikes_. Not…this.”

Sam looked at James in disbelief. “You want to ride around on a loud ass motorcycle and attract every infected around?” Sam asked James before turning to Steve. “Where did you get this kid, and can you return him?”

Steve barely held back a snort, but his lips did curl into a smile.

“Hey!” James retorted. “I’m not a kid” – “Coulda fooled me,” Sam mumbled to himself, but loud enough for Steve to hear it. – “and thinking you meant motorcycle is a perfectly logical conclusion.”

“Sure it was,” Sam placated, causing James to flip him off.

They each grabbed a bike and adjusted it to their heights before walking them to the gate. Sam let them out and then closed the gate shut behind them.

“It’s this way,” Sam said, swinging a leg over his bike and pushing off easily.

Steve copied him, only wobbling a little bit in the beginning as he got his bearings. He couldn’t really remember the last time he rode a bike. He remembered riding a bike a few times around Brooklyn, and once when he was older in Montauk, but otherwise, he never had a need to.

There was a laugh behind him and then James went flying by, racing to catch up to Sam. Steve shook his head and pedaled harder.

Sam led them down a road mostly covered in grass and dead leaves. Steve took in a deep breath of fresh air to clear his head and get himself mission ready.

The outskirts of Boston didn’t receive the same level devastation as the city proper did, but they still passed by hollowed out churches, abandoned cars, and burned down houses. He could spot infected here and there, stumbling about, but thankfully, none were in the road.

It took about twenty minutes to reach the high school. They passed by a large sign that said Lincoln Sudbury Regional High School and turned off the main road. There was a large white house on the corner and then another sign, more prominent and professional, that stated the school name, and behind it, Steve could see the school just beyond a thick thatch of trees. They continued to ride alongside the school until a large parking lot came into view. The first entrance was blocked by a pile up of cars and a fence, so they continued on, riding along the row of trees and the fence until that ended and they got to a bit of road that served as another entrance to the parking lot.

Upon Steve’s suggestion to leave the bikes near the entrance, they hopped off and leaned them against the trees before walking up the short road into the parking lot.

The lot was a bit of a mess. It likely served as the local meeting spot or hub for any natural disasters in the area, given the size of the school. The space was huge. There were a handful of rows, each with a large awning covering them. It was full of scattered cars that had seen better days, and a handful of yellow school buses. To the left was the school itself. Three separate, multi-story buildings connected by a small, mostly glass hallway on each level.

Steve could already hear the runners moaning and saw a few staggering amongst the cars.

“So, where’s the Humvee?” Steve asked Sam.

“There,” he said, pointed towards the school buildings, “between the last bus and the red truck.”

When Steve spotted the vehicle, he slumped slightly, muttering, “You gotta be shittin’ me.”

The Humvee was literally in the middle of the parking lot, having crashed into both a bus and a light pole that was now resting on the bus.

“What the hell were they doing?”

“Best guess was they tried to mow their way to the school, but lost control,” Sam replied. “You can see the path they tried to take if you go a bit further down.”

Steve sighed as he thought of a game plan.

The good news was that the infected were mostly spread apart. It was possible to make it to the car without alerting the whole parking lot to their presence if they stayed low. The bad news was that they had a long way to go and the blind spots from the busses meant there was no good path.

“Alright,” Steve said, taking a deep breath and pulling out his knife. “James, stay behind me. Sam, take the rear. Stay low.”

Getting through the first few cars was slow, but successful. Steve snuck up behind the runners, got an arm around their throats, and stabbed their skulls before dropping them slowly to the ground.

Things were going well. So, naturally, when they were over halfway to their destination with a dozen runners down between Steve and Sam, everything went to hell in a handbag.

Steve crept low behind a mini-van, keeping an eye on the goal on their left.

“Steve,” James whispered, urgently. Steve stole a quick glance at James to see him staring and pointing ahead. Steve followed his gaze and saw a runner appear from behind the car in front of the mini-van. With the tilt of its head in their direction, Steve knew that their time was up.

“Run,” Steve ordered, getting up from his crouch and running in the direction of the Humvee. Their fast movements and pounding feet attracted the infected. Steve could hear their cries grow louder the further they got. He had to trust the others to keep up with him as he kept his eyes on available pathways around them. It wouldn’t do well to lead them all straight into a hoard.

The vehicle was in sight. Steve dashed forward, and almost reached it when three runners came swinging out from behind it. Steve’s steps stuttered as he tried to stop. He used his momentum to his advantage, though, delivering a forceful front kick to the lead runner. It toppled back into the other two, knocking them down, but Steve knew they wouldn’t stay that way for long.

In the corner of his eye, another two were coming in from the right. A quick one-eighty showed Sam taking shots and James ready to fight the approaching swarm.

 _Think, think_ , Steve’s brain taunted.

A solution appeared next to the bus. There was a truck parked next to the back of the bus. If they could get on top of it, they’d be able to bottleneck the infected.

“Over here!” Steve called, sprinting over to the truck. He climbed onto the bed, then the cab, before jumping up to the top of the bus.

James was right behind him, scaling up to the bus without issue and sliding by Steve to get behind him.

Sam was climbing up onto the cab when Steve took out his gun and started firing it at the infected who had reached the truck. Steve paused when Sam got up top.

“Go find the battery,” Steve commanded Sam. “James, go and cover him.”

When Sam passed by him, Steve focused on the infected following them up onto the bus. They were swarming, bumping into each other, and climbing over one another to get up, but there was only so much room for them without falling off. Some of them toppled off only to mindlessly follow the others back up to the truck.

Steve made every shot count, aiming for the head as soon as they stepped onto the bus. There were so many though, that he had to keep stepping back to gain some distance.

He managed to get a handful or two down when he heard, “Fuck! It’s not here!”

Steve couldn’t spare a look, but he heard the desperation in Sam’s voice. “What do you mean it’s not there?!” he shouted back, taking a few more steps back.

“It means exactly what you think it means!”

“Goddamn it,” Steve grumbled to himself. Then his gun clicked, empty.

A dozen infected were still clambering up to the bus. There was no use to sticking around to fight them if the battery was long gone. Steve spun around and began to run down the remaining length of the bus as the changed out his magazines. Sam and James hid behind the Humvee, though Sam was still rooting around the back seat.

“Time to go!” Steve shouted. Gun still in hand, he jumped down on top of the Humvee and barely broke his stride to jump onto the ground.

He looked behind him to see that the infected were either falling back to the ground or almost at the end of the bus. They couldn’t go back.

Steve tugged on Sam’s shirt and pushed at James’ shoulder. “Run!” Steve ordered, turning to sprint in the opposite direction, toward the school.

Near the edge of the parking lot, Steve veered to the left, leading them toward the fence he noticed on his way in, but as they drew closer, he saw infected climbing over the fence. All that gunfire had attracted the ones nearby.

“Fuck!” Steve breathed, pivoting on his foot and heading back toward the school. The school might not have been the wisest place to find shelter, there was no sense of what could be lurking in there, but it was better than fighting through a mob when his ammo supply was slowly dwindling.

The infected were catching up, so Steve almost sighed in relief when he noticed the entrance to the first building sitting partially open, but not enough for a body to get through. After holstering his gun, Steve pulled on the door. It resisted him initially, but with enough force, he was able to shove it mostly open.

After a quick millisecond scan of the building, proving the immediate area to be infected free, he quickly ushered James and Sam in before following right behind them. His pulse skyrocketed when he could see the orange of the infected’s eyes. When they were all in, Sam helped Steve pull the door shut, just in time for the runners to thump into the door.

The door muffled the continued thumping, but Steve could barely hear it, or his heavy breathing, over his blood pumping in his ears. He took a few moments to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. They were okay. They were safe. For now, at least.

He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back before wiping his forehead with the back of his arm.

“That was close,” James whispered into the dark.

“ _Too_ close,” Sam grumbled. “Fuck.”

Steve ignored them in favor of taking stock of their environment. Surprisingly, the school was decently lit, despite the lack of electricity. Sunlight spilled in from a hallway in the distance and through the open classroom doors. The hallway was spacious with random sets of lockers here and there. Dirt and grime covered the once white floors and walls.

As his heart rate leveled out, Steve could finally hear the infected. Their noises echoed through the halls. The dragging of feet seemed amplified.

Steve took a deep breath and drew his knife before saying, “Let’s find a way out of here.”

They didn’t get far before Steve stopped and pressed back against the right wall when they reached the first intersecting hallway. Listening closely, Steve could hear a runner drawing near before staggering away. He snuck a peek around the corner. He could see the back of the runner and another one entering a classroom a little further down. Just as he pulled back, he spotted something horrible stumble out from the adjacent corner, causing him to rear back even faster, all while cursing.

“What?” Sam asked, lowly.

“There’s a fucking bloater,” Steve harshly whispered back.

“What’s a bloater?” James butted in.

“They’re huge,” Sam replied. “Just think of a really tall and fat clicker shaped like a baby that throws fungus bombs at you like monkeys flinging their shit.”

Steve frowned at the accurate picture Sam painted. “Lovely description, Sam,” Steve said, coolly.

“Man, I hate those assholes. Can we get around it?”

Steve peaked around the corner to see the runner heading their way again, but the other two infected were gone.

Steve leaned back and shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

When the runner was headed away from them again, they snuck across to the other side and inched their way down the hallway. A couple classrooms held a clicker or runner, but it was easy to move by them when they timed it right.

Near the next intersecting hallway, where light was spilling in from a large skylight in the ceiling above a set of stairs, Steve spotted an emergency exit sign pointing to the left. Holding out hope, he moved a little faster to the corner, peering around it.

He sighed. The double doors were covered in fungus. The vestiges of a clicker sat in the corner.

Looking ahead, the hallway continued for another two sections, there was bound to be a set of doors at at least one of those intersections. He waited uneasily for a clicker that appeared from the right to turn around. He breathed out when it did and moved on.

They were at the next intersecting hallway when Steve heard heavy footsteps and deep growls.

Reflexively, he stepped back, bumping into James. He flipped around and made a pushing motion with his hands before practically shoving James back toward the closest open door behind Sam. Steve just as he stepped into the classroom when he looked over his shoulder just in time to catch the bloater appearing from around the corner.

James immediately pulled him down behind the teacher’s desk. He was confused about the need for it before he heard the clicking. He had forgotten about the clicker in this room.

The wait was agonizing. He could hear the bloater shuffling toward their door, the clicker making its way around the classroom.

Steve was concentrating on the infected’s noises when a hand was waved in his peripherals. He looked over to Sam who waved to the clicker turning the corner. They were in its path. Glancing at the door, he noticed that it was opened outward and he estimated that the bloater was just about to pass by. If they made noise to distract the clicker, moved, or attacked it head on, it would draw the bloater’s attention.

There was only one option.

Catching Sam’s eyes, Steve signaled to him to get the clicker. As soon as Sam moved, the clicker had screamed. Steve raced his way to the door to find the bloater only a few feet away. It faced him and growled deep and low. Heart in his throat, Steve grabbed onto the door and swung it shut. He whipped around and ran back toward the desk. He barely noticed that Sam was finishing off the clicker when he rounded the desk, calling for James who was anxiously waiting next to Sam with his knife.

“Help me push!” Steve ordered. James hurried over and helped Steve push the heavy desk in front of the door. The door didn’t swing inward, but sometimes bloaters didn’t need doors. It would slow it down at least.

A thud resonated throughout the room as the bloater pounded against the door. The walls around the door splintered as it continued to knock against the door.

“Steve! There’s another door back here!” Sam called, gesturing to door with a stack of desks in front of it.

They all rushed to it, pulling all the furniture out of the way. There was definite crack behind them when the doorway was cleared. Steve peeked out into the hallway quickly and watched as the clicker ran down the corridor towards them, thankfully turning to join the bloater.

Glancing to the left, he saw a set of doors. He darted out of the classroom and toward them. When he pushed on the first one, it was locked, but the other swung open just far enough that he could squeeze through. He could have cried in relief when he stuck his head through and saw no infected in sight.

There was a crash. The bloater had gotten into the classroom.

Steve shepherded James and Sam out the door before he quickly followed. He closed the door as gently and quietly as he could behind him. He then led them away from the school and to the right, keeping out of line of sight from the classroom windows.

Scanning their surroundings, Steve saw that they were outside the fence that surrounded part of the parking lot, but there were still a lot of infected hanging near the fence, clearly agitated.

Steve pointed to the white house on the corner he saw earlier. “Let’s get to that house and wait for the infected to die down before we get our bikes. We should be able to keep watch from there.”

They covered the distance at a jog, reaching the house in no time and without further issue.

Steve led the way into the house with his knife up and ready. He entered first through the back door and his eyes immediately landed on a body hanging from a noose in the living room. The body was silent, as was the rest of the house. After letting the other two shuffle in and closing the door behind them, Steve moved into the kitchen on the right and picked up a dirty pan on the stove. He smacked it twice against the burners.

When the silence continued, his shoulders sagged. “I’m going to clear the house just in case,” he told the other two. James was staring emotionlessly at the body and Sam was watching out the kitchen window. Without waiting for affirmation, Steve cleared the small bedroom next to the kitchen before heading to the front of the house to go up the stairs.

He was in the second bedroom when he heard James yelling his name. The wary, but urgent tone of his voice had him thundering down the steps, knife at the ready.

The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks. Sam was on his knees in front of the hanging body, looking up at it, pained and in shock. Steve gazed at the body.

It was Riley.

“Shit,” Steve gasped before rushing forward toward Riley. “James, help me get him down!”

Steve wrapped his arms around Riley’s thighs and lifted. He watched as James picked up the chair below Riley’s feet and climbed it to remove the noose. Free of the rope, Steve shifted the body to slump over his shoulder and moved over to the couch. He gently laid Riley down and kneeled beside him.

Riley’s eyes were still open. His blue eyes were dulled and lifeless. Breathing slowly, Steve reached up and closed his eyelids.

Inspecting the rest of Riley’s body, Steve could scarcely count the number of bites along his arms, torso, and legs.

“He was bitten,” Steve said gently, loud enough for Sam to hear from where he sat, hunched over and immobile. “Multiple times. He must have wanted to go his own way before the infection took.”

“Steve,” James murmured, walking up to Steve’s side. “This was on the side table.”

In James’ hands, he saw the battery they were searching for in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. The pieces falling together in his head, Steve slowly took the paper.

 _Dear Sam_ , it read, _I didn’t think I’d ever have to write this note, and to you of all people. I know we always thought you’d be the first to go, but here I am writing one of those fucking letters that we used to find everywhere, wondering if the intended would ever find it…I wonder if you’ll ever find this. Find me. My love, I’m sorry for…_

Steve stopped himself from reading any further. He swallowed thickly and blinked rapidly, holding back tears. Running, his free hand over his face, Steve gathered himself and stood up.

James was still waiting anxiously at his side, worried eyes on Sam.

“Hold on to that,” Steve instructed James, motioning to the battery in his hand, “and keep watch around the house. Let me know if you see anything.”

James nodded, and with one last look at Sam, turned and moved back to the kitchen.

Steve sighed and moved over to Sam’s side. “Here,” he said gently, putting the letter in Sam’s field of vision. It took a few moments, but Sam eventually reached up to take it into his shaky hands, holding it delicately, as if it was a piece of fine china.

As soon as Sam started reading, a wretched sob escaped his mouth. His hands shook the paper as he read and cried. Steve closed his eyes and breathed deeply, willing himself not to break down alongside him.

Sam and Riley had loved each other deeply, confessed to be each other’s ride or die on numerous occasions. Together, they’d been through war before the outbreak and the war that came after, enduring everything as a team for far longer than most couples Steve knew, himself included.

Steve knelt by Sam and rubbed his shoulder, trying to provide any sort of comfort he could. He waited patiently for Sam to finish reading.

Sam tossed the letter onto the floor in front of him. His shaky hands swiped at his cheeks. “Fuck him,” Sam lamented. “I hate him.”

“I know,” Steve agreed, automatically.

Sam finally hauled himself over to the couch and kneeled up beside it. His hands splayed themselves over Riley’s body, reverently, and a new round of sobs started up again. Any words he spoke were choked out. Steve got up and went to join James in the kitchen, giving Sam space to mourn over Riley’s body.

“Any change?” Steve asked on approach.

James stole a quick glance back at Sam. “Not really.”

Steve nodded and looked out. James was right, there really was no change. The infected were still riled up and slightly clustered.

He took a quiet moment to think about their next steps.

“Okay,” he said, once he thought of a plan. “You and I are going to get the bikes and bring them here. There’s a kid’s wagon upstairs. You’ll get it when we come back and I’ll get down that rope. We’ll put his body on the wagon and tow him back. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” James agreed.

“Good,” Steve said before grabbing the battery from the counter. “We’ll leave this here with Sam, I don’t think he’s going anywhere for a while.”

Steve approached Sam and placed the battery on the floor beside Sam. His cries had subsided, but his breathing was still raspy and heavy.

“Hey,” Steve said quietly. He leaned down and gently laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “James and I are going to get the bikes. We’re leaving this with you.”

Sam looked at the battery on the floor and nodded in affirmation.

“We’ll be right back.” With a final squeeze to Sam’s shoulder, Steve stepped away and motioned James toward the front door.

They went to the side of the road opposite the school and walked briskly to where they left the bikes. They made the trip there and back quickly and in silence. When they got back, they noiselessly moved about the house, grabbing the supplies Steve wanted. Outside, on the front lawn, Steve tied one end of the rope around the seat of his bike and the other around the handle of the wagon. The wagon was a little small, but it would fit Riley’s body if they put him in the fetal position, but to be doubly sure, he enlisted James to help him gather all the cables in the house and tie them together.

Steve estimated an hour or so had passed by the time they were ready to get going. Sam was still hunched over Riley’s body, petting his hair, when Steve approached him.

“C’mon, let’s take him home,” Steve said, gently, squeezing Sam’s bicep and tugging lightly.

Sam moved a few moments later, getting up slowly on wobbly legs. “Can you…” Sam rasped, gesturing to Riley.

“Yeah, yeah. I got him. You just focus on getting the battery back.”

Sam nodded before finally tearing his eyes away from Riley, picking up the battery, and exiting the house.

Taking a deep breath, Steve swung Riley’s body over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and took him outside. With James’ help, Steve got Riley situated on the wagon and strapped down, Sam turned away all the while.

When everything was set, Steve said, “Sam, lead us out of here.”

Sam nodded and kicked off, the battery hanging from his handlebars.

Steve swung a leg over his bike. “James,” he said quietly. When he got James’ attention, he nodded back toward Riley’s body, saying, “Stay behind me and make sure nothing happens to him.”

James looked grim, but nodded gamely.

Steve took off after Sam, pulling Riley’s weight behind him.

The ride back was as uneventful as the ride there and they got back to the house in no time at all. Steve and James waited outside the gate while Sam climbed a nearby tree and swung his way over the wall and onto the platform that ran around the perimeter.

After opening the gate, they all rode their bikes back in, Sam closing the gate immediately behind them. Sam left his bike behind as he went into the garage’s side door and opened the large garage door manually from inside. Sam and James put their bikes back in their places as Steve untied the wagon from his. Sam came back outside with the battery in hand.

“It’s working,” Sam said as he neared Steve, but he didn’t look up from the battery. “I’ll put it where it’ll get the most sun.”

“Great,” Steve replied, “thank you.”

Sam nodded and was about to walk away when James approached. His hands were wringing around the wooden handle of a shovel. “Do you – um,” he hesitated as he addressed Sam. “Do you want to bury him?”

Staring at the shovel, Sam sniffled before nodding. “Yeah, that’s a great idea. I know just the place.” Sam went off into the garden with James trailing after him.

Steve finished untying the rope before wheeling the bike into the garage and returning to the wagon to pull it over to where the other two were. When he arrived, James was already beginning to dig as Sam collected some flowers from the few bushes they had. He stood there by Riley’s body and waited.

With nothing to occupy his time, Steve’s thoughts began to wander. First to Riley, alone and trying to get through the hoard. In his mind’s eye, he saw runners pulling at his limbs and sinking their teeth into his flesh. Then his thoughts switched to Clint attacked by clickers, getting his throat ripped out, and collapsing lifelessly to the cold, hard ground.

Steve shook his head as he took off all his gear and put it in a pile near the flowers. He then walked over to James.

“Here,” Steve said, holding out his hand toward James. “Let me do that.”

James paused and frowned at Steve. “It’s okay, I can do it.”

“James, please,” Steve said, his voice on the edge of pleading. He needed a distraction. Something to do with his hands, something to take his mind off things. He knew the moment he slowed down his thoughts would stray back down that dark road.

James’ frown straightened out as he handed over the shovel.

Steve nodded back at Riley’s body. “Thanks. If you can get him untied, that’d be great.”

They switched places and Steve continued what James started.

Steve dug and dug and dug and dug until his hand were blistered and bleeding. He took small breaks, taking drinks from the water James brought over and munching on some peaches, but mostly he worked. He didn’t think.

Hours later, the grave was ready. It wasn’t six feet deep, but it was deep enough that it nearly went up to Steve’s waist. When he climbed out of the hole, only James was around, sitting in the shade of a tree and reading a book. There was a small bouquet of flowers near him.

“Can you help me put him down?” Steve asked.

James put his book to the side and got up wordlessly. Together, with Steve hooking his arms under Riley’s armpits and James grabbing his ankles, they carried him over to the grave and softly laid him to rest.

After climbing back out, Steve wiped his hands on his shirt, wincing at the sting of his blisters. Grabbing a glass of warm water from nearby, he poured the contents over the blisters with gritted teeth.

“Could you get me an old shirt from inside? Please?” Steve asked. “Any of the shirts in your guest room should do.”

James drew his forearm across his brow as he eyed Steve for a moment. “Sure.”

Steve got started on moving the dirt back, holding the shovel gingerly. He didn’t get too far before James came back with a black Rolling Stones shirt that had various holes in it. He took it with thanks, and after grabbing a knife, cut it into strips.

He was trying to tie a strip around his hand on his own when James batted his hand away. “Let me,” James muttered. Steve sighed and waited patiently as James tied the strip tightly around his left hand and then did the same to his right.

“You’re not going to let me take over, are you?” James asked.

“No.”

James merely hummed and dropped his hands to rest them on his waist. “There you go.”

Steve wrung his hands and clenched them, testing the movement. They weren’t wrapped so tightly that he couldn’t move them. “Thanks.”

James smiled up at him, his cheeks bright red from the sun and heat, and Steve watched as he turned to walk toward the garage.

Taking a deep breath, Steve restarted filling in the grave again. He was startled a minute later when James returned with a rusty metal bucket and sunk it into the pile of dirt. Steve stared at him for a moment and James stared back, daring him to say something. With no energy to fight, Steve just shook his head and continued shoveling.

Working together in silence, they were done within the hour. Steve’s hands ached as he stood beside the grave, not quite sure what to do with himself now. His mind was quieter though.

It’d been so long since he’d buried a friend, but the familiarity made Steve uneasy. He could only think about who else’s grave he’d have to dig.

“What was his last name?” James’ question broke Steve out of his reverie. James sat in the shade again, with a plank of wood across his lap and his knife in hand.

“O’Connor.”

“And Riley’s R-I-L-E-Y, right?”

“Yeah.”

James nodded and started engraving the wood with his knife.

Exhaustion weighing down on him, Steve took a seat on the ground near his pile of gear, which sat to the left of James and put his back to the waning sun. He sat silently, half-listening to the scratching noises James made.

Steve didn’t know how much time had passed before James was standing up and trying to shove the plank of wood into the edge of the loosened dirt.

Steve stood up and grabbed the shovel again. “Watch out,” he said on approach. “Hold it steady.” James looked up from where he was half-successful in getting the plank into the dirt and took a step back, but he stuck a hand out to keep it from falling backward.

“Just don’t bash me,” James teased, lightly. Steve threw James an unamused look, which only made James grin wider.

With a firm grip, Steve swung the shovel down onto the wood several times, staking it into the ground. When it was secure, Steve took a few steps down the side of the grave. _Riley O’Connor_ was etched at the top of the plank.

“That was nice of you,” Steve told James, hands propped up on the shovel.

James smiled kindly. “I’d want someone to do the same for me.”

Steve’s mind stalled on the idea of James dying. Even though he didn’t know the guy well, didn’t even want to go on this fool’s errand with him, he didn’t think he could handle adding James’ body to the ever-growing pile of the dead. He was young and full of hope.

James carried over the flowers Sam had picked and placed them in the middle of the grave.

They stood there for a few moments before Steve started moving again. “Come on, let’s clean up, and get some food.”

After putting away everything, Steve made a vegetable stir-fry for dinner, something quick and easy to throw together. He sat with James at the table and they ate in silence. When they were done, Steve put the small amount of leftovers onto a plate, and after grabbing a fork and a glass of water, went upstairs to Sam’s room.

He knocked on the door. There was no response. He hadn’t really expected one. “Sam,” he said through the door, “I’m coming in.” Juggling the plate and glass, he managed to get into the room and close the door with his foot behind him.

Sam was curled up on the far side of bed, cocooned underneath the sheets.

“I know you don’t feel like it, but I’m gonna need you to eat and drink this. Once you do that, I’ll leave you alone again, okay?” Steve slowly walked around the bed and a pair of discarded boots and placed the plate and glass on the nightstand.

The sheets were pulled up over Sam’s nose. His eyes were red, but dry, and peeking out unseeingly. Steve tenderly ran his hand over Sam’s head. “C’mon, buddy.”

Sniffling, Sam slowly pushed away the sheets and sat up. Steve sat at the end of the bed as Sam took the plate and choked down the food without tasting it and chugged down the glass of water without thought. Empty handed, Sam continued to sit there, staring blankly at the wall.

Steve waited for a sign that he should leave, and was almost about to get up after sitting there for almost ten minutes without a word, when Sam spoke up.

“He’s really gone,” Sam whispered, sniffling. “A part of me knew that he was already, but you know you just…” There was a beat before tears started falling.

“I know, I know,” Steve murmured, scooting down the bed and drawing Sam into him. As best as he could, Steve wrapped his arms around Sam, making soothing noises and rubbing his back.

Eventually, Sam’s tears died down and he pulled back, hands wiping away the rest of his tears. “Thanks,” he said, his voice rough.

“Anything for you,” Steve said. He pursed his lips briefly before offering, “If you want, I can stay in here tonight.”

Sam shook his head and took a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’ve been sleeping two months without him already anyway.”

Steve nodded and stood up. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said as he gathered the plate and glass.

“Aren’t you the guest here?” Sam joked through a tight smile.

“Figure I should earn my keep.” Steve moved to the door, but he looked back. “Goodnight.”

Sam looked over his shoulder. “Night, Steve.”

The next day, after making breakfast and making sure Sam ate something, Steve checked on the battery that Sam had left in the middle of the garden. It was almost fully charged.

The next thing they needed was a car.

Remembering Sam mention the mechanic’s and the dealership, he geared up with James and headed out to find it, leaving Sam.

“What kind of car are we looking for?” James asked as they got to the main road, the one they’d come into town on. Steve didn’t remember a dealership on the way in, so he went in the opposite direction.

“Any that has a decent set of wheels,” Steve said. “Then we’ll see if we can get some jumper cables and oil from the mechanic shop. If that all goes well, we’ll make another trip for gas.”

James nodded, looking thoughtful. “How are we going to get gas?”

“You siphon it from the tank. It’s not a fun process.”

It only took fifteen minutes to find the dealership, which turned out to be mostly overflow for an actual dealership. Steve was also a little dismayed to find that the cars were Land Rovers. On the one hand, they were all mostly in decent shape, but on the other, they wouldn’t get as good mileage.

They walked through the lot to the back, killing two runners hiding among the vehicles, and broke into the small office there. After searching the place, Steve finally found the drawer of car keys, each meticulously labeled to match the stickers on the windshield of the cars. Selecting a random handful, they chose a car that would be easy to push out of the lot and had good tires still, tossing the rest of the keys on the ground.

Once they wheeled the car onto the main road, they went to the mechanic’s. It took a few minutes, but Steve was able to locate the proper cables and a little bit of oil. He was even able to grab a couple of empty canisters and a long plastic tube for siphoning.

By the time they made it back to Sam’s, Steve was sweating up a storm. He had been pushing the car from behind as James pushed from the driver’s side and steered. His lungs and legs were burning. He wanted nothing more than to relax, but Sam, who had finally made it out of the house to let them in, helped him figure out how to hook up the batteries.

After lunch, Steve and James went out again. This time, they were on the bikes, wagon with empty canisters and tubing trailing behind.

They started with the cars closest to the main road. Steve washed his mouth out each time they found gas. Once, James offered to help, so Steve dubiously handed over the tubing, adding a warning not to swallow the gas. The dark look he received in return made him tamp down a pleased smile. James drew off the gas, but the accompanying hacking and choking made Steve vow to keep the siphon tube.

James didn’t ask for it again, either.

After about an hour, they dedicated the rest of the day to relaxing, and Steve added washing the taste of gas out of his mouth.

The next morning, after eating a hearty breakfast that Sam cooked for them, they all gathered outside to test the car.

“Moment of truth, Rogers,” Sam said, watching Steve avidly.

Steve sat in the driver’s seat, door still open, and put the key into the ignition. Taking a deep breath and praying to every higher power in the known universe, Steve turned the key to the first position. The dash lit up and a dinging noise warning that the driver door was open sounded.

“That’s good!” Sam exclaimed.

“Don’t get too excited,” Steve warned, but allowed himself to smile a little at Sam’s enthusiasm.

Steve turned the key all the way. The car sputtered, but didn’t catch. He tried again and almost felt the car start, but it wasn’t quite there yet. Third time was the charm. The car sputtered and rumbled to life.

James and Sam cheered and even high-fived each other. Steve laughed in relief, curling up and resting his forehead on the steering wheel.

Things were starting to look up.

Now that the car was ready, they packed their meager belongings into the car. Against Steve’s protests, saying it was too much, Sam gave them a large bag of dried fruit, vegetables, and dried meat, a bar of his handmade soap, some wires and cords for snares, a book containing a detailed map of the US, and a couple gallon water containers.

“With Riley gone, I don’t need this much stuff anymore,” he had said. Then he had shoved the stuff into the trunk before Steve could say another word.

It was mid-morning by the time they were ready to go.

James sat in the passenger seat, already having said goodbye to Sam. Steve and Sam stood to the side of the car, making small talk, not wanting to say goodbye. Unlike the previous times they’ve gone their separate ways, the weight of Clint and Riley’s deaths hung heavy over them, making this parting that much bitterer. This could be the last time they see each other.

Their discussion ended, and Sam sighed heavily before spreading his arms wide. “Alright, Cap,” he grinned sadly. “Get in here.”

Steve huffed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He stepped forward, bumping his chest into Sam’s and wrapping his arms tight around his body.

“It was good seein’ you,” Steve mumbled. “You take care of yourself, alright?”

“Yeah, you too, you crazy asshole.”

Steve smothered a laugh into Sam’s shoulder and stepped back. They smiled at each other as Steve clapped his shoulder and turned away. His hand was on the car door when he paused, considering, and looked back at Sam.

“You know, maybe you should think about finding Nat,” Steve suggested. “She could use a friend right about now, I think.”

Sam stayed silent for a few moments as he glanced over his shoulder at the house and back at Steve. “I’ll think about it. Where would you suggest I should look first?”

“By the coast. 280 Quincy Shore. South of Boston across from the Squantum Yacht Club. ‘S got a tall white fence, you can’t miss it.”

Sam repeated the location back to him and said, “Got it, thanks.” Steve smiled toothlessly at him and, with a nod, climbed into the car.

They were driving out of Sam’s property a minute later, waving at each other as Steve drove away.

“You think he’s going to find Nat?” James asked when they turned onto the main road.

“I hope so.”


	4. Pittsburgh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please make sure you've read the previous chapters, as these updates have been posted quickly. ❤️
> 
> Additionally, please make sure you've read the tags for all the warnings.

Bucky was _so_ bored.

After three days, they were only about 250 miles away from where they started, just passing through New York.

The delay was no one’s fault. Sometimes it took a while to find a working bridge. Sometimes the roads were impassable. When this occurred, Steve and Bucky spent a lot of time good-naturedly bickering over the next back road to take, giving them something to converse about instead of. It was better than sitting in dead silence.

Bucky had offered several times to switch places and drive, but Steve was quick to point out that Bucky didn’t know how to, and Bucky was even quicker to note that there wasn’t exactly anybody around to crash into.

So, Bucky sighed, and his head rocked along to the bumpiness of the road from where it rested against the partially open window.

“Are you going to keep sighing all day?” Steve’s voice was neutral, but Bucky was beginning to learn to read the inflections in his tone. Bucky didn’t need to know all that, though, to know that his sighing was annoying Steve.

“I’m bored.”

“Don’t you have a book?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, sitting up and shrugging. “I finished the one I took from Sam’s house, but I don’t want to finish _Lord of the Rings_ yet.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, his eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean you took one from Sam’s house?”

“I mean exactly what I said.”

“So, you stole it,” Steve accused.

Bucky shrugged and tossed his hands. “There were so many books in that room, I hardly doubt he’s going to miss one.”

“Did you take anything else?”

Bucky worked his jaw before rolling his eyes. “Yes.”

“Why’d you steal shit from my friend’s house?” Steve practically yelled.

“Not like he was using it! They were all dusty or hidden!”

Bucky rummaged through his bag and pulled out a CD case. He had pilfered it right before they left, remembering that there was a CD player in the car. He thought that, at some point, maybe Steve would want something to listen to, but thus far, he seemed content to sit in silence.

“Aw, man, you took his _Trouble Man_ album,” Steve complained. “That’s his favorite.”

Bucky shrugged, not feeling particularly bad for taking it. For as nice as Sam was, he was also just as much of an asshole. A bit like Steve.

No wonder they were such good friends.

Taking the CD out of the package, Bucky turned on the stereo and slid the CD in. “Well, now you get to listen to his favorite on repeat.”

Bucky went back to rummaging through his bag for his stolen goods as the music played and pulled out two shirts and a hand towel. Steve had raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Then Bucky took out the last thing he stole which had been hidden away in the nightstand of the guest room. It was the pièce de résistance of his collection.

Bucky held up a gay porn magazine next to his face and smiled innocently at Steve, who did a double take when he realized what Bucky was holding. Steve stared so long in surprise at the magazine, and at Bucky, that Bucky was afraid that he was going to drive them off the road. Not like that would be easy with how straight the road was.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bucky said as he took the magazine into his hands and started flipping through it. “I saw you with Clint.”

“What do you mean, you saw me with Clint? And why’d you take _that_?”

“I just mean that you’re acting too scandalized for someone who’s into men,” Bucky replied. “Do you know how boring it is to jack it off to the same magazines for years? It’s horrible.” His flipping was interrupted when two of the pages were stuck together. He pulled a disgusted face. “Gross.” He flipped the page and stared. “How would you even get that inside you?”

Bucky perused the magazine some more. He had already taken a quick look through it the night before, but he enjoyed the way it was making Steve so obviously uncomfortable. A faint blush stained his face and he shifted in his seat.

Bucky took his eyes off the magazine for a moment. “I thought Natasha and Clint were the couple, but was it really you and Clint?”

Steve shook his head. “No, Clint and Nat are…were together. Had been since I met them.”

“How do you fit in there then?” Bucky was genuinely curious. After the hiding in the restaurant, Bucky figured that Clint and Natasha were the ones romantically involved, but the way Steve said goodbye to Clint put some doubt into his mind.

Steve was hesitant to reply to Bucky. “They would invite me to, you know…join them.”

Bucky’s eyebrows flew up. To be a fly on the wall when those three were together. “Jesus.”

“Hey,” Steve asserted. “Condoms are rationed and if you catch the wrong STD or virus, you could die. So, we decided that if we kept it in house, we could avoid all that. Clint and I are bisexual and Nat isn’t able to get pregnant, so it all worked out.”

Bucky smiled at the way Steve’s cheeks were flushed, whether from arguing or the conversation, he didn’t know, but he liked the way color looked on him.

Steve glanced at him, and when he saw Bucky’s smile, he frowned while he grumbled, “We’re not talking about this anymore.” Then he reached over and turned the music up, filling the car up with a soothing saxophone.

Bucky laughed and flipped through the pages some more before, on a whim, he threw the magazine out the window. The action made Steve look at him in question.

Shrugging, Bucky said, “There’ll be others.”

Steve shook his head, but Bucky could see the curl of his lip as he hid a smile.

*

“Do you know what I’d kill for?” Bucky asked, serene smile on his face.

Steve hummed, chewing on his dried fruit.

“Ice cream,” Bucky groaned, almost twirling about on his feet in the memory of the chilly dessert. “I miss it so much. Think I’ve only had it once since the outbreak, and it tasted like shit.” Bucky took a bite of his own fruit and lazily paced along the side of the road.

“Not much by way of dairy in Boston,” Steve said.

“No shit,” Bucky replied. He paused and faced Steve, who was leaning against the car. “What food do you miss most?”

Steve paused and considered the question. “Apple pie.”

Bucky gasped. Then he said in hushed excitement, “Apple pie _with ice cream_.” He grinned when he saw the barest smile on Steve’s face.

“C’mon,” Steve said, pushing off the car and nodding his head toward the front of it. “Let’s get back to it.”

*

Steve studied the map. “The quickest way is through Pittsburgh.”

Bucky deadpanned, “You want to go traveling through a city crawling with infected and overrun by rebels.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you!”

Steve sighed and closed the map before handing it back over to Bucky. “It shouldn’t be that bad, it’s been long enough since the uprising that the military should have made a clear route through it by now –”

“ _Should_ have,” Bucky emphasized.

“– and we’ll stick to the outskirts. There are multiple bridges we can cross to get over the river,” Steve continued, talking as though Bucky never said a word and pulling back onto the road. “Besides, we’ll be able to see if there are any supplies we can take. The ammo we got from Sam will only take us so far.”

“I’m going on record and saying that I object to this plan.”

“Objection noted.”

*

Pittsburgh was living up its name of being the pits.

Every bridge they came across was blocked or destroyed, which drew them further into the city. Bucky had stewed in silence, despising the fact they were going into the cramped city. Pittsburgh held no good memories for him. It had been years since he’d been to there. The buildings were more derelict and run down than he remembered, but they looked no worse than Boston.

They were passing through the heart of the city when they were forced into a trap. The freeway was blocked, obliging them to take the exit onto surface streets. Then a man pretending to be injured and in need of help stumbled out onto the road in front of them. Steve had only paused for a second before demanding Bucky to put on his seatbelt and gunned the car _towards_ the man.

It was a shit show from there. Men popped up from their hideouts, shooting at them, before an actual _bus_ rammed into the car and propelled them into a shop.

Now, they were hiding behind the counter of said shop as the rebels closed in on them. The rebels taunted them as if they were the scariest things Steve and Bucky had come across.

Steve picked them off one by one as Bucky loaded his guns. There were too many though. A rebel jumped over the counter next to Bucky and, before Steve could change his aim, yanked him up into the air to act as a human shield, the gun and ammo were knocked out of his hands. Another rebel took the advantage of the distraction and engaged Steve one on one.

“Get off of me, asshole!” Bucky screamed, thrashing in the man’s arms, his feet barely brushing the ground.

“Stop fucking squirming. This’ll be over quick.” The man began to shift his arms from around his waist, but Bucky didn’t want to know what would happen when they reached their goal.

Bucky plucked his knife out of his pocket and stabbed the man in the thigh, yelling, “Fuck off!”

The man howled and Bucky broke free from his arms. He whipped around with his knife ready out in front of him. He danced on the balls of his feet, waiting. His opponent lunged forward and Bucky sliced at his arm and darted to the side. This happened twice more before the man became enraged enough to charge at him.

Bucky gets a good nick at the man’s wrist before he’s pinned to the wall. There’s a hand around his wrist, holding the hand with knife next to his shoulder, and another hand on his throat, choking him. Bucky struggled for breath. His free hand ineffectually clawed at the vice around his throat. He tried to break the man’s hold, but he was too strong and Bucky’s strength was draining away every second he went without breathing. His vision blurred.

Bucky suddenly realized that he was pinned by the wrist and not the hand, his hand was able to open and close. Without a second thought, he reached across his body, grabbed the knife, and stabbed the man in the throat, all before the man even had time to react. Some blood splattered on him as he jerked the knife out.

The hands pinning him dropped away as the man scrabbled at his neck, blood seeping through his fingers. Bucky dropped to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath. The man collapsed in front of him and one hand grabbed at his legs, but Bucky jerked to the side and kicked him.

“James!” Steve shouted over the sound of gunfire. Bucky had barely noticed the gunshots during his fight. “Stay down. There’re two hostiles left.” Bucky looked to his left and saw Steve hunched behind some shelves, two dead bodies around him.

Bucky nodded and crawled to sit up against the counter. He watched the man bleed out in front of him as his breathing returned to normal.

Countless minutes later, there was the sound of footsteps and Steve’s voice saying, “All clear.”

It took a few moments before Bucky’s legs got with the program and he was able to stand up.

Steve was by his side then, asking, “You good?”

Bucky nodded. There was a cut on Steve’s cheek, but it was superficial, barely bleeding. Bucky was too rushed with adrenaline to know if there were any cuts on him, too.

He looked at the mess around them. Suddenly everything came crashing down on him. Their car was totaled. If the welcome party was any indication, the city was crawling with rebels. Who knew if any of the bridges were still up and running? They were going to have to make their way through an unfamiliar city on foot.

Bucky was getting real tired of being right. He knew Pittsburgh was bad news; he felt it deep down in his guts. He tried to warn Steve about it, but for all of Steve’s intelligence, skill, and strategy, he did not have an ounce of ‘Danger, Steve Rogers!’ in his body.

Though, stones and glass houses and whatnot. Bucky did get himself bitten. He still glared up at Steve anyway, to make himself feel better.

Steve frowned. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You remember how I objected to Pittsburgh?” Bucky remarked. Bucky was surprised Steve still had his eyes for how hard he rolled them.

“I’m going to scavenge the bodies,” Steve said, ignoring Bucky’s pointed comment. “You gather everything out of the car and put it on the counter. We need to move before any more men show up.”

Steve turned away and Bucky did what he asked after wiping off his knife. He gathered all their belongings and put it on the counter, but left the leftover canisters of gas in the trunk.

When Steve returned with his spoils, he began to pack the guns and ammo he stole from the dead. He then turned to the rest of their belongings. There was a fair amount of food and only a gallon of water left. Steve gave Bucky half of the food for his backpack, along with the map. Steve took the rest of the food, the hunting gear, and the water, which he hung off a strap on his backpack with a carabiner.

Bucky noticed that Steve took more of the load, but he didn’t question it. It made sense, Steve was obviously stronger than Bucky, and he wouldn’t be weighed down as much as Bucky would.

“Let’s get out of here,” Steve announced once he swung his backpack onto his back. “I scoped out an exit.”

Bucky followed Steve out of the destroyed shop and into another, one that was more used as evidenced by the clearly used pathways and lack of dust. The backroom, though, told them why. It had two large piles of discarded clothes and a mound of shoes on the floor. On the racks against the walls were backpacks and other items for survival. However, more alarming were the two dead bodies on top of the counters in the middle of the room.

“What the fuck,” Bucky said, shocked.

“Hunters,” Steve grunted, heading over to the wall of goods and checking them out. “They kill people and take their belongings.” The man was half-naked, but the woman was still fully dressed. They must have interrupted their culling when they arrived.

“I don’t think they were even infected,” Bucky murmured. He then said, louder, “This could have been us, huh.” He walked by the pile of clothing and shoes. There must have been enough for at least fifty people. On the counter nearby was an inventory list of some kind, detailing everything they found.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve sighed, turning away from the shelves. “I guess we should have gone the long way around then.”

“Too late to go back now,” Bucky replied, standing next to the back door.

*

They traversed the streets until they found a more discrete office building nestled away from the main roads.

“The nearest bridges are here,” Steve said, placing a finger on the map to the west of downtown. “We’re about two klicks away.” He placed another finger nearly on the opposite side of downtown. “The zone was in downtown, so it’s probably safe to assume the rebels still have control over it.”

Bucky nodded as he looked over the map with Steve. He nibbled on some dried fruit and pointed to a spot near the waterfront. “I remember there was a checkpoint around here –” he dragged his finger more inland “– and around here. I think, at least.”

Steve shrugged and peered closer at the map. “It’s something to start off with.”

Once he was satisfied with the route they were going to take, they repacked their belongings and reentered the streets.

Despite the large welcoming party, the streets were nearly devoid of people or infected. They had to hide once from a small group of rebels, but they were able to easily slide by them.

While Bucky’s estimation of the checkpoint location wasn’t completely accurate, they did end up finding it eventually. Whether by rebel design or luck, Bucky didn’t want to question.

The desecration laid out before the checkpoint was sickening. There were lines and piles of old cars, skeletons still inside, bullet holes in the windows.

He remembered trying to get into the quarantine zone. He and his father had to stay in line for hours as each person was checked for any sign of a bite or infection. He remembered the ones who were suspected of being sick being taken away, screaming. There was pushing, shoving, and a lot of yelling, all done with the tangible undercurrent of fear.

The fenced in checkpoint was similar to Boston’s, but with actual walls covered in graffiti and no room for a convoy. It was also stagnant in time, looking more like a refuge than a transient point. The turnstile for entrance turned easily and they slithered through the fenced off queue to get to the intake point. There were sections blocked off by steel walls, but further in were tables and ripped medical tents. Now, it looked like it was storage for the hunters. There were boxes and crates of various sizes sitting in piles.

Steve shifted into a crouch behind one of the walls and Bucky followed and settled behind him, just after glimpsing three men swagger into view.

“No clue who did it,” one man said. “Thompson wants our eyes peeled and doing sweeps.”

There was a snort. “I say bring it on. Makes a more exciting game. All the screaming and crying gets tiring.”

“Aw, c’mon, you remember that one guy who pissed his pants?” asked the third. The others laughed.

Steve shifted and put down his backpack. “Stay here,” he whispered to Bucky before moving around him.

“Wait, what’re you gonna do?” Bucky whispered back.

Steve waved him off and disappeared around the steel wall.

Bucky scoffed and shuffled up to where Steve was previously. Typical of Steve to leave him out of his plan, even when Bucky had proven himself capable of killing earlier. He figured he’d have to have a talk with Steve about it eventually because Bucky staying back and twiddling his thumbs while Steve did all the hard work was just nonsensical.

The men were still talking about their previous kills, leaning against or sitting on the various tables, when a cement brick was flung at one man’s face and a knife thrown at another. Steve came into view, flying over a table onto the last man’s back and stabbing him repeatedly in the chest. He pushed the body toward the one who got a brick to the face and advanced on the other man, knife first. The second man was dispatched quickly, and the last barely had time to get himself together before Steve was on him.

All the men were bleeding out on the ground only in a matter of seconds. It was impressive.

Bucky stood up and grabbed Steve’s backpack. “Jesus,” Bucky said as he strolled over to where Steve was cleaning off his knives. “That was kinda awesome.”

Steve raised an eyebrow before standing and taking his backpack from Bucky. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’ve been doing this a long time, huh,” Bucky commented, following Steve out of the checkpoint.

“What d’ya mean?”

Bucky shrugged. “Like fighting people. You’re good at it. Look trained, and people call you Captain.”

They ducked into an old library, using the path that the rebels obviously used. Steve didn’t seem concerned about being cautious, so Bucky took the opportunity to wander the stacks. It had been a while since he had been in a library. Especially a library where most of the books were still there and intact. In Boston, the only library in the zone had been ransacked to use the books as fuel for fire.

Bucky spotted a sign for science fiction and eagerly changed direction. He meandered through the middle shelves. His eyes darted over the titles, and he had grabbed three by the time he made it out of the row. He was slightly surprised to find Steve patiently waiting, leaning against the nearest counter.

Bucky smiled brightly at him and held up the books. “Have you read any of these?”

Though Steve didn’t smile, Bucky could see the way his eyes softened. He picked one out of Bucky’s hands and tossed it away, saying, “That one’s probably too close to home right now.”

Bucky eyed the last two. They were small paperbacks. “Think I could keep both? I think I have room in my bag.”

“Sure,” Steve agreed. “If you got the room.”

Bucky grinned and took off his backpack. He reached in to toss Sam's book. He'd already finished it, so he shoved the two new books in to take its place.

They left right after, entering an alley. There was more graffiti on the walls and a pile of skeletons still wearing military uniforms. Bucky paused to look at the graffiti. ‘ _ANOTHER 3 SOLDIERS DEAD. GIVE UP!_ ’ Bucky remembered the military giving as good as they got, but the shear amount of non-military was overwhelming, even though they had the weapons. With nothing to fear beyond death, the rebels were daring in numbers.

“C’mon.”

Bucky looked over to Steve, who was waiting for him again, and smiled softly in apology. He trailed after Steve as they wound through the alley. When they reached the end of it, they had to divert to the main street.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed when he stopped on the main street. When Bucky stepped up beside him, he echoed the sentiment.

The street headed north was filled with water from the river. They were just close enough to the river that if any barriers were damaged, the water could easily flow into the city. Something must’ve happened in the last eight years, because Bucky didn’t remember this at all.

Bucky looked to the south and saw the street blocked off due to a building collapse on the opposite side. “Maybe go back a few streets through the alley?” Bucky offered.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “That might be best.”

Bucky was about to take a step back when he heard tires squealing from behind the collapsed building. Laughter, gunshots, and screaming rang out.

“I’m not opposed to swimming though, either,” Bucky said, walking into the street toward the water. “Not sure how good I am at it. Haven’t swam since I was – eight, maybe?”

Bucky stood at the edge of the water and noted the submerged cars and busses, and the way vegetation was climbing up the buildings and on the street around the edges of it. The water itself was a little murky, but nothing objectionable.

“Maybe we won’t have to swim,” Steve said from beside Bucky, and he pointed to the nearby building, by water.

The building had a flat awning above the entrance with a ladder attached. A broken window sat above the awning.

“So, d’ya think that’s an actual rebel path or a diversion to lead us into an infected building?” Bucky joked.

Steve shrugged. “Won’t know unless we try.” He then marched over to the other side of the street. Bucky followed him and cocked his head when he noticed Steve stop and begin to take off his socks and shoes.

“What are you doing?”

Steve glanced at him and rolled up his jeans, revealing knobby feet, pale skin, and a dusting of light brown hair on his calves. Bucky found it charming. It was a horrifying thought.

“Nothing worse than walking around in wet socks and shoes,” Steve said, shoving his sock and shoes into his backpack.

“Yeah? And what if we need to run away? You seriously gonna to go running around bare foot?”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Bucky huffed, but Steve had a point. He only had the one pair of shoes, and if he could avoid getting them soaked, he might as well take it. Sighing, Bucky copied Steve. He stuffed his socks and shoes into his backpack and rolled up his jeans to his knees.

Cautiously, they waded into the water, stepping carefully as the water slowly rose. The water reached just above mid-calf by the time they reached the ladder. Steve went up first, telling Bucky to wait for him to clear the area. Bucky grumbled a little, but waited patiently in the water as Steve went to check inside the building. Steve waved him up few moments later and led him to another ladder on the other side of the broken window that led to a flooded lobby.

“It’s a hotel,” Steve said, taking in his surroundings. “Looks like they were in the middle of remodeling when the outbreak happened.”

Bucky noticed the scaffolding on the left side of the lobby, and construction equipment lying around. There was a depleted grand staircase straight ahead, and a dark front desk to the right.

“Let’s see if those stairs get us anywhere,” Steve said.

The staircase was in shambles, so the progress up was tedious, but once they got onto the next level, they stopped to wipe off their feet with their extra clothing and put their socks and shoes back on. They followed the worn-out path on the carpet onto the second level. The hotel was practically empty but for a few rebels that Steve took out without breaking a sweat.

The third level brought them to an elevator bank where one of the elevator doors were propped open. The elevator itself was set for the floor below, and doors for the adjoining elevator were open on the floor above.

Bucky peered inside. The next elevator was even lower than the one in front of them. He had a feeling he was going to be tossed like a sack of potatoes again.

Steve went inside and jumped onto the next elevator. It swung and groaned under his weight, but held up. “Come on down,” Steve said to Bucky.

Bucky walked onto the first elevator and shuffled over to the edge. It wasn’t a big drop, but there was a slight gap and elevator cables that hadn’t been serviced in years. Plus, Steve was a heavy man by himself.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky took the jump and landed beside Steve with a thud, stumbling a bit. Steve gripped his arm to steady him, and Bucky smiled up at him in thanks. His grin faltered when Steve dropped his arm as if it burned him, and stepped away.

“C’mon, I’ll boost you,” Steve said, placing his back to the wall beneath the open elevator doors and cradling his handles.

Bucky glanced from Steve to the open doors and back down again. Nodding to himself, Bucky took two quick steps forward. He stepped into the cradle, then on Steve’s shoulder and then jumped to grab onto the ledge. His feet scrabbled for purchased and he was in the middle of pulling himself up when there was a groan of metal, and the sound of something breaking. Heart in his throat, Bucky got his legs up as a crash and a splash echoed throughout the elevator shaft. He spun around on his knees and looked down to the find the elevator submerged in water, Steve nowhere to be found.

“Steve!” he yelled, waiting for him to surface. He called out Steve’s name again when his head popped out of the water. “Oh my God, Steve, are you okay?!”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” he called back, wiping his face and his hair back. “How ‘bout you?”

“You scared the shit outta me, asshole! I think I can get down there –”

“No! No, stay there, I’ll make my way to you.”

“I’ll get a rope or something?” Bucky looked around and saw nothing but trash.

“There’s not going to be some miracle rope.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to help!”

Steve laughed, and Bucky found himself laughing along, it calmed him.

“So much for trying not to get your shoes wet,” Bucky joked, grinning widely.

“Yeah, I think they’re a lost cause now,” Steve replied, smiling back. He then pointed ahead of him. “I think there might be a way out through here. I’ll come find you.”

“Okay, don’t do anything stupid until you get up here.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes as Steve swam off. Sam was right. Steve did some crazy shit. Getting to his feet, he looked around, there was only one direction he could really go, and that was down the hallway, past the empty rooms. He was careful to look out for any lingering rebels, but also tried to imagine where Steve might come out. He was able to find a working staircase on the other side of the building and slowly made his way down. At one point, he hid when he heard people heading his way, but he took the opportunity to follow them to see if they could lead him to an exit.

His intuition was correct. They led him to a large dining room. He hung out outside and peeked in, there were four men lounging about outside a destroyed window. Bucky sighed – they were talking about Steve and him killing their people. They were pissing off all of Pittsburgh.

The sound of footsteps alerted Bucky, and he dove behind the host stand. He internally groaned when the man stopped outside the dining room. Bucky noiselessly withdrew his knife. He peered around the stand. The man was sitting down on a dirty bench across from him, flipping his gun like a bad cowboy. Shaking his head, Bucky rolled his eyes and settled in to wait. Even though he didn’t like it, Steve would want him to stay put.

Bucky didn’t know how much time had passed before Steve made his presence known. No gunshots occurred, but there was grunting and yelling, and not the good kind. Bucky popped his head out from behind the stand and saw the man from the before creeping slowly into the room. Bucky stalked after him, knife ready.

The noise died down, and the man suddenly jumped up and ran headfirst.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted, running after him. The shout alerted Steve, who turned around at the noise, but it was too late. The man tackled Steve to the ground and he wasn’t getting up. Bucky watched his legs thrash. The man was just as big as Steve was, Bucky wouldn’t be able to do much damage if they went hand to hand.

On the ground, only a few feet away from the pair, was a handgun. Bucky didn’t think twice before picking it up, striding over, and shooting the man in the head. The body slumped over Steve.

Steve coughed and pushed the body off to the side. He laid there gasping for air.

“You alright?” Bucky asked, his heart pounding in his chest. He sat down in a nearby chair and looked down at the gun in his hands. It had been a while since he fired one, and only the third time it had been at a live person. It was easier this time than the first two, but maybe that was because it wasn’t his life at stake. “That was pretty crazy, huh.”

When Steve caught his breath, he sat up. “Jesus,” he muttered and stalked over to Bucky. He ripped the gun out of his hands and Bucky squawked in protest. “You could’ve shot my head off.”

Blood boiling now, Bucky stood up. “Hey! If it weren’t for me, this asshole woulda choked you and you would’ve died! So, what about a ‘Thank you’ or a ‘Sorry, for treating you like some helpless child, maybe you _can_ handle yourself,’ huh?”

Steve was still breathing heavy, and everything about him was closed off, from the clench of his jaw to the crease in his brow. Bucky waited for a reply. He wanted Steve to know that he knew his way around guns and knives. He didn’t need to be coddled.

Steve didn’t reply though. He merely shook his head and said, firmly, “Let’s go.” He turned away before Bucky could say anything, so Bucky sighed heavily and clenched his jaw to prevent himself from saying anything else.

Outside the broken window was more scaffolding. Bucky knew something was wrong when Steve crouched down behind some wood paneling, cursing softly. He knelt down as well and looked over the edge. There was a large plaza landlocked in the middle of the four neighboring buildings, and it was crawling with a dozen or so men. They men were spread out, most likely on the lookout for them.

“How are we gonna get through this?” Bucky asked, hushed.

Steve sighed. “Here,” he said, and Bucky looked over and noticed there were a few rifles lined up against the railing on Steve’s side. Steve handed one of the newer ones over to Bucky. “You said you could shoot this right?”

Bucky stared at Steve, confused by the complete one-eighty Steve seemed to be taking here and hesitantly took it into his hands.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, running his hand over the barrel. “This is what I’m best at.”

Steve nodded, and glanced down at the gun in his own hands before saying, “I’m sorry, you’re right.”

Bucky looked up at Steve, watching the changing expressions on his face as he spoke.

“I shouldn’t be treating you like you can’t handle yourself. You obviously can. It’s just with my friends no longer around...” Steve swallowed hard, looking away. “I can get by on my own, y’know.”

“I know you can,” Bucky replied. Steve looked back over as Bucky continued, “But the thing is, you don’t have to. And you shouldn’t, especially not out here. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line. You got me to watch your six now. All right?”

Steve’s eyes softened and Bucky felt a smile creep across his face in response. The corner of Steve’s mouth curled, and he dropped his head. Bucky’s cheeks heated up. He might as well have written Steve a love note, complete with hearts over the ‘i’s and everything.

Steve cleared his throat. “Only fire when completely necessary,” Steve said, dropping his backpack and crawling to the end of the scaffolding. “You’re the element of surprise. We don’t want to give away your position too early.”

Although it wasn’t a complete fifty-fifty effort here, Bucky appreciated the trust and responsibility Steve was giving him. So, Bucky nodded and said, “Good luck.”

Steve’s lips twitched before he dropped out of sight.

Bucky looked down at his rifle. He checked the magazine, grateful to find four bullets. He’d have to make every shot count. He examined the rest of the gun, getting a feel for it and checking the scope. Next, he took in his surroundings. Thanks to the tall buildings, he didn’t have to worry as much about the wind and sun, so he put one of the rebels wandering around the middle of the plaza in the crosshairs and adjusted his scope accordingly. Then he did what he did best: he waited.

Watching Steve stealthily take out the men without giving away his position was a work of art. He hid and dragged bodies into bushes. Army crawled up a small set of stairs. Pulled men over counters and shoved the bodies underneath it, motions smooth as silk and not a single moment wasted. Bucky never wanted to make an enemy of Steve.

By the time the eighth man went down, only about ten minutes after he started working his way around, the rebels finally caught on that there was someone there with them. It didn’t matter. Steve had gotten to a second floor on another building with shattered windows and picked off the remaining men.

Bucky watched as Steve scanned the plaza for several minutes before finally making his way back. Steve was over halfway across the plaza when Bucky began to pull back. He froze when he thought he saw movement in some bushes along Steve’s path. Bucky hurriedly brought the gun back up and focused on it. The movement stopped, but there was something dark beneath the yellow leaves.

He was right to have waited. As soon as Steve walked past, a rebel rose partway out of the bushes, gun raised.

Exhale.

Fire.

The crack of the rifle echoed across the plaza.

Bucky took a deep breath and pulled away from the gun. Steve looked at the body Bucky dropped, then swung his gaze up to him and gave him a lazy salute. Pride filled Bucky’s chest.

Gathering the rifle and grabbing any usable bullets from the other guns, Bucky prepared to meet Steve. He went to the edge of the scaffolding and dropped Steve’s backpack over the edge before jumping down himself. Steve approached, looking a bit of a mess. His damp clothes easily picked up all the dirt he’d been crawling around in and he was covered head to toe with splatters of blood.

“You look awful,” Bucky told him, picking up his backpack and handing it over.

Steve glanced down at himself and frowned as if it was the first time seeing the state of his clothes. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I got a dry pair of clothes to change into either,” he replied, gesturing to his wet backpack and throwing it over his shoulders. “I figured out why there’s so many of them here.” After Bucky raised an eyebrow, he continued, “This is one of their base camps. It’s on the small side, but they got a pile of shit in the opposite building.”

“Well, lucky for us, then,” Bucky said.

“We’ll see. C’mon, help me see if there’s anything good on the bodies, first. You can take the left side. I’ll take the other. We’ll meet up by their stash.”

Bucky did as asked and combed through the plaza, collecting any weapons he could find on the dead men. He was on his way to the building with the stash when he spotted Steve crouched over one man with his own small pile of goods next to him.

Steve looked up at Bucky as he passed by and waved him over.

“Come look at this,” Steve said, waving Bucky closer. Curious, Bucky laid down his goods next to Steve’s before moving to the other side of the body and squatting as well. Steve pushed aside the collar of the man’s button up shirt a bit to reveal a small tattoo just below the collarbone. It clearly wasn’t professional. The black lines were sloppy and some parts were more faded than others were, but the picture was clear. It was a skull with six tentacles flowing out from the mouth. Bucky had seen this symbol on an alley wall in Boston. He never knew what it meant. “Did any of your bodies have this tattooed on them?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t looking for it,” Bucky replied. “I can go check?” Steve nodded and Bucky jogged over to the last body he checked over.

He pulled back the collar and the sleeves. Finding nothing, he pulled up the shirt, and there, on the man’s ribs was the symbol. Going to the next body, Bucky found the tattoo on the inner bicep. The next, the calf. The forearm. The neck. All but one had it.

Bucky ran back to Steve, who was on the ground where he left him, sorting through their findings. When Bucky told him what he found, Steve cursed and rubbed his face with his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, a sinking feeling materializing at Steve’s distress. He sat down on the ground across from Steve.

Steve sighed and continued sorting through the supplies and placing them in separate piles. “Have you ever heard of HYDRA?” Bucky shook his head. “Well, when the outbreak occurred, FEDRA used their power to take control of the military and established the quarantine zones, right? Not many know, but early on, a few of us discovered HYDRA, and discovered that they were the ones pulling all the strings, controlling FEDRA’s resources. So, SHIELD was created to take down HYDRA. Get society started again without all the oppression and reestablish some democracy.”

Steve paused his rifling. He stared unseeingly down at the ground in deep thought. Then he sighed and continued, “Five years ago, I led a raid on the last HYDRA base. We killed everyone there, just like all the previous bases. And when I left SHIELD after that raid, I expected things to change, for SHIELD to take over, but it all stayed the same.” Steve huffed and waved a hand to general area around them. “So, this explains a lot, y’know? Finding a group of HYDRA members? They must not be as dead as I thought.”

“Shit,” Bucky breathed. He nibbled his bottom lip. The ability to create a shadow organization in a world this fucked up wasn’t great news to hear. And to know that they were behind the agency that held power over many survivors filled Bucky with dread. “What can we do?”

Steve glanced at Bucky with a raised eyebrow. “ _We’re_ not going to do anything. We’re going to SHIELD, that’s our priority right now. I’ll let them know what we found.”

Bucky sighed in resignation. In retrospect, if the group was as big as Steve hinted at, they probably couldn’t take on a whole organization on their own, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Here,” Steve said, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts. Bucky looked down at Steve’s outstretched hand. He held a black thigh holster, already outfitted with a gun and an extra magazine.

“Really?” Bucky asked. After Steve nodded, Bucky eagerly grabbed it with thanks and stood up to put it on. He tied it to his waist and tightened the straps around his thigh. He practiced drawing and holstering his gun, getting used to the motions.

Turning to show Steve his leg, Bucky asked, “How’s it look?”

Steve looked up at Bucky, and then glanced down at the holster, a faintly amused look on his face. “Looks good.”

Bucky beamed. “Thanks.”

When Steve finished packing the things he wanted, they went into the building at the end of the plaza. To the side, there was a lounge area full of containers and boxes.

“Keep watch,” Steve told Bucky as he began searching through the pile for anything good. Bristling at being on watch duty, Bucky moved to the edge of the room so that he could keep Steve, the plaza, and the hallway leading to the lounge in view.

Steve made quick work of combing through everything. There wasn’t anything of note, as he was quick to toss boxes aside when they proved useless, but on one of the last boxes, he paused and stared at the contents. “Holy fuck.”

Alarmed, Bucky asked, “What?” Steve lifted a few rectangular bricks for Bucky to see. He didn’t know what he was looking at. “What’s that?”

“C4. Stuff you can make bombs with,” Steve replied. “I have no fucking idea how they got this.”

Steve frantically emptied a couple small duffle bags to shove the bricks inside one and dumped wires, duct tape, and unidentifiable tech in the other. He took a piece of rope and made a large loop through the bags’ handles before tying it off and throwing it across his shoulders.

Once Steve got the things he wanted, they left the plaza quickly in search for a place to stay for the night as the light was already waning. Steve wanted to scope out a place early to lessen the odds of bunkering down near rebel territory and for a chance to dry out his belongings.

They moved inland to get away from the water, then headed north again, but they didn’t get far before they needed to hide. The city was crawling with rebels. The only good thing about the high rebel activity was that they lessened the chance of running into infected. It was one less thing for them to worry about while they were constantly ducking into enclosed spaces and navigating roadblocks.

While passing through a storefront, Bucky heard screaming. Steve dragged him down to hide behind some shelves as guns went off and tires squealed to a stop. A woman cried. Another gunshot silenced her. Bucky snuck a look around the shelf. Two rebels were hopping out of a Humvee to search the bodies. They complained about the increase of ‘tourists’ and the lack of supplies the people they shot down had on them. Then, they jumped back into the truck and peeled off, but not before Bucky caught a glimpse of a dead body spread eagle on the hood.

Bucky barely noticed his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. That could have been them. That could _be_ them.

Steve had to shake his shoulder to snap him out his thoughts. Bucky gave him a shaky smile to reassure him that he was fine. He _would_ be fine.

It was a long process to get anywhere in the city. There were close calls where they were almost seen and times where they had to take out a few rebels to get further down the street. Steve still did most of the work, but Bucky was always ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.

A Humvee advanced down the street in their direction. Steve made the decision to go up a fire escape to lay low on the roof, but Bucky was quick to point out an open window on the fourth floor.

“Maybe we can check this place out?” Bucky suggested.

Steve agreed and climbed up the stairs. They paused briefly to huddle motionless against the wall as the Humvee drove by. When it was safe, Steve climbed through the window. Then he turned around to help Bucky through.

Steve was snatched away from Bucky’s sight with a grunt by a blur of arms.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted as he clambered through the window, managing not to get any of the weapons slung on his back caught on anything.

There was a man on Steve’s back, choking him. Bucky pulled out his knife and looked for an opening, but Steve rammed back against the wall, knocking the guy loose enough for him to throw him to the ground. Steve pounced on him, throwing punches.

Bucky went to cover him against any more rebels in the building, but before he could go anywhere, he saw a woman appear in the doorway, gun pointed straight at Bucky.

None of the rebels were women. Bucky had noticed that after the plaza. He didn’t know if there were just none at all or if something worse was in the works here. Her presence was startling enough that he dropped his knife, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Steve, stop!” Bucky yelled, eyes still on the woman. Her blue eyes were trained on Bucky and her dark hair was pulled back from her face.

When Steve didn’t stop punching the man who was valiantly trying to fight back. Bucky cried out again from him to stop. When he finally did, Bucky asked, “Have you ever seen a female rebel?”

“No, I haven’t,” Steve replied from the floor.

“Get away from him,” the woman demanded, a slight accent in her voice.

In his peripheral vision, Bucky saw Steve get up and move back beside Bucky, arms raised.

“Apologies, ma’am,” Steve said. “Thought you were one of the rebels running around.”

She said something in another language.

“I’m okay,” the man on the floor said in the same accent, as he slowly sat up, groaning the whole time. “Nothing that won’t heal in a few days.”

Finally, the woman lowered her gun, and Bucky and Steve dropped their arms. Bucky stooped to the floor to grab his knife and put it away.

“You hit real hard,” the man said to Steve as he stood up.

“Well, you did get the jump on me,” Steve replied, matter of fact.

“You didn’t see me coming?” The man smiled, lopsided as Steve grimaced. His hair was so light that it was almost white, although he didn’t look old at all. He was almost as tall as Steve, but a little lankier.

“I’m Pietro,” he said. The woman spoke again, and Bucky could tell, even though it was in another language, she was annoyed. Pietro gestured to the woman. “This is my sister, Wanda. Your name’s Steve?”

Steve nodded and gestured to Bucky. “Yeah, and this is James.” Bucky awkwardly smiled for a second and waved. “You two alone?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The siblings glanced at each other. “We were in a group,” Wanda said. “Came here yesterday looking for supplies, but we got split up when those hunters ambushed us.”

“They ambushed us, too,” Bucky replied.

Pietro nodded. “We’ve been trying to find our friends, but we haven’t run in to anyone else but you guys.”

Bucky thought about the people being chased behind the collapsed building. The ones shot outside the store like animals.

He glanced at Steve. There was a small tilt to his mouth and a slump to his shoulders. He was thinking the same thing, but they both stayed quiet. Bucky hoped it was kinder.

“How about you two?” Wanda asked. “Traveling with anyone else?”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head, “just us.” Bucky could feel Steve burning a hole in the side of his head with his glare. Maybe he shouldn’t be giving away that they were alone, but it felt as though Wanda and Pietro were being truthful, so Bucky reciprocated.

The siblings started communicating in their native language again. They seemed to be debating something that Wanda was unhappy about.

“Would you like to travel together?” Pietro asked, eagerly, once they were done. “We found a place to stay the other night that’s out of the way. We were just going back to wait for nightfall.”

“Yeah? And what happens then?” Steve asked.

“We’ve been watching the hunters,” Wanda replied. Bucky smiled inwardly. If Pietro was an eager puppy, Wanda was a cool cat. She was standoffish while her brother seemed more than happy to welcome new people. “They’re blocking the only path we can find to the bridge, but we found they do a shift change a few hours after dark.”

“Can’t wait to get out of this shithole,” Pietro complained, and then added, “Wanda may not think so, but I think it’s safer in numbers. So, if you two want to tag along, we could use the company. And it helps that you two seem capable of fighting, yeah?” Pietro waved a hand in Steve’s direction, but Bucky didn’t know if he was referencing his build or the obvious signs of death on his clothes.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other. Steve raised an eyebrow, asked Bucky for his thoughts. Pleased, Bucky shrugged in response, he didn’t care either way. Together, they were a bigger target and moved slower, but they’d have more manpower on their side. Someone having a plan to get out of the city was a plus.

Steve turned to the siblings and nodded. “Sure, we’ll follow you two.”

Pietro grinned, “Come on then, let’s get out of here.”

“Follow me,” Wanda said and began walking away.

Wanda led them out the apartment building, quiet and cautious, and Steve shadowed her. Bucky wasn’t surprised that Steve stayed nearby. Wanda’s strong presence was reminiscent of Nat’s, but she was still an unknown.

On the other hand, Pietro was more than happy to chat with their new companions.

After Pietro explained a little of what happened after they split from their group a couple days ago, Bucky asked, “Are you two from America?”

“No, we’re from Sokovia,” Pietro replied, shaking his head. “We were only here for about a month doing study abroad when everything happened.”

“Study abroad?”

“Yeah! In university, you could take classes in other universities around the world for a few months,” Pietro explained.

Bucky was struck by the reminder that he too could have gone to college, saw a world he’d only known in magazines and books. It’s something he thought idly of from time to time: a normal life, like the one he had before the outbreak. It was nothing but a fantasy though.

As they worked their way through the city, Pietro and Bucky continued chatting. Steve and Wanda exchanged a few words sometimes, but Bucky was unable to understand their muttering.

Along the way, Steve killed a few rebels that blocked their path in his typical stealth fashion, but it wasn’t long until they finally got to an office building and climbed up to the fifth floor.

Wanda led them through some hallways until they reached a door with a plaque beside it that read _Roche, Capistrano & Assoc. Attorneys at Law_. Beyond the door were two large conference rooms, cubicles, and several individual offices. She led them to a door that had inset a small, window covered with paper and pulled out a key, explaining that she found it in one of the desk drawers inside.

It was a corner office with what Bucky guessed was probably once expensive furniture. A large desk sat in the corner and in the opposite corner were two couches and two armchairs. A small pile of supplies rested on top of the damaged coffee table.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Pietro said as he made a beeline to one of the couches. After tossing his backpack to the ground, he stretched out, sighing happily. His head popped up as Bucky made his way over to the other couch. “Want some blueberries? We swiped them yesterday when they weren’t looking.”

Bucky shrugged. He hadn’t eaten blueberries in a while. “Yeah, sure.”

Pietro sat up, grabbed a cloth bag off the coffee table, and went to sit closer to Bucky. With the bag sitting between them, they began to dig in.

“You could’ve left anytime last night, why now?” Bucky heard Steve ask. He glanced over to see Steve and Wanda by the window.

“We were waiting to see we could find any of our friends before we left, but…” Wanda trailed off, looking out the window. “That doesn’t seem likely now. We made plans to meet up on the other side of the river at the Carnegie Science Center, by tomorrow. If any of them have made it out, they’ll be there.”

“And your plans after that?” Steve asked, and when Wanda didn’t deign to speak, he continued, “You must have some reason for coming into the city for supplies.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I’m not the one looking for help here,” Steve replied firmly.

Wanda did her best to outwait Steve, but Bucky knew that was a lost cause, Steve was stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be. So, it was no surprise when Wanda relented, squaring up her shoulders as if prepared for a fight, and said, “We’re looking for SHIELD and we heard they have a base out west. We want to join them.”

Bucky knew SHIELD’s reputation wasn’t great. The military did their best to paint them in a bad light, a bunch of transgressors who only wanted to wreak havoc. SHIELD’s penchant for fighting and causing chaos sometimes created visceral reactions in people. Bucky would be a liar if he didn’t believe it a time or two, himself.

As Bucky chomped on a berry, he watched as Steve stole a glance at him before saying, “Well then, you’re in luck. We’re looking for them too.” Wanda’s shoulders lowered slightly at the admission. Steve then patted his small duffle bags and walked over to the armchair. “And even luckier for you, I have a better plan because you’re not getting through that open field without some distraction.”

Despite Steve’s express desire to keep the provisions for the bomb a little while longer, Steve proposed setting them off in a nearby building to distract the rebels, hopefully drawing most of them away from the guard post. According to Steve, there were materials to set it on a short timer. Steve could get out and meet them before the blast occurred.

“Are you sure that’s going to work?” Wanda asked from her seat on the other armchair.

“It’ll draw at least half of them away,” Steve said. “And if what you say is true, there shouldn’t be any more than a handful to take out if we need to.”

“Sounds exciting,” Pietro said with a grin.

Wanda scoffed. “This isn’t a game, Pietro.”

“I know, I know.” Pietro raised his arms in surrender.

Bucky spotted the frown that pulled at Steve’s mouth, but it quickly went away when he said, “Everyone rest up, we only a have a few hours to wait.”

Pietro immediately threw himself back on the couch before Wanda shoved him over enough, with some unknown words, until they were both curled up on each end of the couch with only their calves and feet tangled in the middle.

Bucky followed Steve who had taken his backpack to the desk to begin unpacking it.

“This sounds like one of those plans Sam was warning me about you know,” Bucky said as he watched Steve look over the contents of his bag. Some objects had fared better than others. The food was good, wrapped in bags, as was the hunting gear. The more porous materials, like his clothes, were dry in some places and soaked in others.

“Sam talks shit,” Steve grunted. He laid out the wet pieces across the desk to dry and kept all the dry things in a pile.

Bucky hummed. “If you say so,” he replied noncommittally. He traveled around the desk and straightened out a pair of socks that Steve had haphazardly thrown across the desk. “You really think it’s a good plan?”

Steve paused in sorting his weapons. “It’s the only one we’ve got.”

“And what happens if that bomb goes off and you’re not there with us?”

“Then you run like hell,” Steve said, resuming his organizing.

Bucky rounded the desk again to better glower up at Steve. “You expect me to just leave you behind?”

“Yes,” he replied, easy as breathing and ignoring Bucky’s presence by his side altogether. “I’m just the escort here. Your life is worth more than mine. You stay with Wanda and Pietro, and you get to SHIELD together.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip and sighed. The thought of Steve dying or being left behind was gut wrenching. Despite his rough exterior and proclivity for getting himself into dangerous situations, Steve was kind and brilliant. Bucky was pleasantly surprised that he enjoyed being around him, after their rocky start, and more so when Steve also appeared to enjoy Bucky’s company, too, sometimes, if the soft smiles he sent Bucky’s way meant anything at all.

“I’ll ask them to wait there, at the science center,” Bucky said lowly. “You got two days to catch up or else I’m hunting for your body. You’re _not_ leaving me here.”

Bucky caught the faint twitch at the corner of Steve’s mouth, even behind the beard, and a small knot in his stomached loosened.

“Yes, sir,” Steve drawled as he took out a gunning cleaning kit.

Bucky rolled his eyes and left him to his work. He should get some shut-eye while he could.

Some hours later, Bucky was gently shaken awake. Steve’s face appeared in his vision and Bucky smiled. It was a nice sight.

“C’mon, time to go,” Steve urged. Being told to move was not so nice.

Bucky grabbed his backpack and noticed the jug of water attached to it. He paused and glanced at Steve who was watching out the window. Bucky knew it was only precautionary, something to have in case Steve didn’t make it back, but he didn’t like the thought of it.

Once everyone was up and packed, they left the building together. At the bottom, Wanda led Bucky and Pietro one way, and Steve headed off in another. Bucky watched him, though, until he disappeared around a street corner, then hurried to catch up to the others.

They took the long way around a building to get as close to the guard post as possible without being seen. They hid about thirty yards away in the remnants of an old bank, in the opposite direction of where Steve was going to set off the bomb. The street intersection the guards protected, as Steve noted, was clear of any cars or barriers on all sides, far enough that any approach would be easily seen. There were more than a handful of rebels, street level, hanging about the entry point containing a closed gate large enough for a Humvee to get through, and a few more above it.

The wait for Steve to return was excruciating. Wanda and Pietro chatted quietly to each other in Sokovian as they all sat behind some desks.

It was getting to be a while, because Bucky felt his ass starting to get numb from not moving, when Pietro asked him, “Steve wouldn’t abandon you, would he?”

Bucky frowned. “No,” he replied vehemently.

Pietro just shrugged. “Had to ask. We’ve been sitting here a while is all.”

“Planting a bomb is not quick,” Wanda said.

“How would you know?”

Wanda glared. “Don’t you remember how long it took to set up that blast in Chicago? There were four of us doing that then.”

Pietro made a face.

Soft footsteps had Bucky flipping to his knees and peering over the desk in a matter of seconds, hand on his gun. He sighed in relief when he saw Steve standing there, looking the same as he left, sans the duffle bags.

“Good,” Bucky said, the relief evident in his voice as he climbed to his feet, “you’re back.”

Steve nodded and walked over. “Yeah, we’ve only got a few minutes. Get yourselves ready,” he said to all three of them who were now standing. Then he said to Bucky, “Turn around.”

Squinting, Bucky did as he was told. Steve messed around with his backpack and a weight lifted off Bucky’s shoulders. When the weight was gone, Bucky turned back around and smiled as he watched Steve clip the water back to his own bag. He looked up at Steve who merely nodded at him and walked away, closer to the guard post.

They knelt behind the closest desk and waited, watching the rebels in the distance. But this time, the wait didn’t last long. A few minutes went by before the floor shook and objects vibrated around them. It was followed closely by the sound of an explosion, close enough to startle Bucky, even though he was expecting it.

Bucky watched as the rebels stood around in shock before they started shouting at each other. A few of them took off running off toward the sound, while a few others jumped in a Humvee.

It left two on the ground and three up top, by Bucky’s count.

“Wanda, Pietro,” Steve said, “you two get the ones on the ground. James and I’ll get the ones up top. James, get up there and clear the other side out. Now move.”

Adrenaline pumping, they stormed the guard point. The rebels were still so distracted by the explosion, they didn’t even notice their presence until Steve shot the closet rebel on top of the gate. Bucky barely paid attention to anything else but getting to the ladder and climbing as fast as he could. There were multiple shots fired, and a body nearly clipped him as it fell to the ground.

Scanning the walkway above the gate, after his head rose above the floor, he spotted a man hunched over in the back corner, in a small office to his left.

“– under fire,” he said into a radio. “I repeat, we are under fire.”

Bucky pulled out his gun and shot him in the chest. He climbed up when he saw no one else coming and cautiously went to the opposite side of the walkway. Looking around and down at the other side of the gate, he saw no one else.

Going back to the ladder, he looked down to Steve already climbing up.

“We gotta get a move on,” Bucky said. “One of the guys called for backup.”

They all rushed down a ladder on the other side and ran for it. Once they made it to the end of the clear street, the bridge came into view. None of them broke their stride as they sprinted toward it, Pietro out front with Wanda close behind. Steve, Bucky presumed, based on how fast he’d seen him run before, was keeping pace with Bucky.

They jumped over various cars and ran across freeway onramps and exits to get to the furthest one. Bucky’s lungs and muscles burned, but he didn’t stop. Not even when there was a loud crash behind them and he sound of an engine. There were a bunch of cars for the Humvee to get through, but Bucky had no doubts that it would be able to catch up.

Bucky had barely made it onto the bridge when the rebels started shooting at them, making him run hunched over, behind rusted cars.

Glancing over his shoulder, his heart stuttered. The Humvee was closer than he imagined, bulldozing its way through the cars. A man stood in the back, behind a machine gun. Bucky glimpsed a smile on the man’s face before Steve was pushing him to move faster.

“We’re not going to make it, Steve!” Bucky yelled as the car window he passed by splintered into pieces.

Steve didn’t respond until moments later when he yelled, loud enough for Pietro and Wanda to hear, “Get in the water!”

“Are you crazy?!” Pietro shouted back, and was crazy enough himself to turn around and run backward for a few steps while doing so.

“Come on!” Wanda yelled, tugging on his wrist toward the left side of the bridge.

Bucky watched as, without hesitation, Wanda jumped over the edge and, where his sister went, Pietro was never far behind.

A hand clamped down on Bucky’s wrist and tugged him in the same direction. Steve dragged him as shots continued to whiz by them and only let go to climb over the railing. Bucky didn’t let himself think. There was one clear winner between being shot and _possibly_ dropping to your death. He followed Steve into the water, his heart in his throat as his body plummeted toward the dark river. He barely remembered to take a breath before he was submerged.

Under water, his backpack felt lighter, but his clothes and weapons felt heavy and restricting. He kicked his feet, muscle memory taking over from learning how to swim long ago. Gasping, he broke the surface and wiped his face free of excess water. He coughed, feeling water in the back of his throat.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked over as Steve swam closer, his long hair plastered awkwardly to his skull and water dripping from his beard. Bucky nodded and focused on treading water.

“We’re following them,” Steve then said, motioning to Wanda and Pietro who were already swimming away.

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky agree and awkwardly began to swim after them. He wasn’t a strong swimmer, due to lack of opportunity to swim during an outbreak, but he could stay afloat.

Shouts came from above. More bullets sprayed around him, and splashes came from behind him, but Bucky concentrated on keeping his head above water.

By the time they reached shore, Bucky was exhausted. The swim across the river had gone on endlessly. He dragged himself up the grassy hill that made the shore. His limbs felt like noodles, and they flopped around him as he collapsed face down on the thick grass.

The others were in the same predicament. They strewed across the grass to rest. Steve was only an arms-length away, already sitting up on his knees, but curled forward to keep his hands on the ground.

“So much for drying out your shit,” Bucky muttered to him, making Steve huff and smile. He curled his toes in his shoes and practically whined, “Ugh, I hate wet socks! How’d you do this?”

Steve started laughing, silently at first, only his shoulders shaking, until it grew louder, filling the silent atmosphere with joy when Bucky complained further, mimicking Steve for a moment, “‘Get in the water!’ he says! _Why_? That’s the _worst_ idea you’ve had since you decided to go through Pittsburgh. Next, you’re gonna have us go through a _hoard_ without _weapons_! No more decisions for you, asshole.”

Bucky mock glared up at Steve from his prone form and was surprised to see, even in the dark, the largest grin he’d ever seen on Steve’s face. The sight made the annoyance melt and he found himself smiling and chuckling as well.

Eventually their laughter petered out and they all got themselves to their feet. Bucky continued to grimace at his wet clothing as they clung to him. They did their best to empty their guns and bags of any water, and were mostly successful.

To their right were the ruins of an old football stadium, the stands half destroyed by bombs, but the rubble spilled out toward the science center on their left which was left untouched, if you didn’t count the ‘G’ from their logo collapsed on the ground. Unless they wanted to get back into the water or walk all the way around to look for some sort of way to get around onto the other side, they were going to have to enter through the back.

Wanda led the approach to the back entrance of the building. It was wide, and about five stories tall. Part of the building was made up of dark glass panels that were impossible to see through in the dark. The glass inserts to one of the double doors was shattered, so they awkwardly shuffled through, and Steve shoved open the next set of doors.

While the inside was dark, Bucky could tell that they were standing in a wide, open space. A cafeteria was on their left and some counters were on their right. Beyond the counters was an entrance to some sort of theater. Steve turned his flashlight on. Bucky struggled to do the same, laden with his weapons and gear. Clint’s gear. Clint had given him a lot of his supplies.

Pietro walked through the rows of tables in the cafeteria. “So, where to?”

“They’ll probably be closer to the front, yeah?” Bucky answered, listing over to the counters. He pulled off a brochure and flipped through it, perking up when he passed over a section detailing their space exhibit.

“Steve!” he called out cheerfully, lifting the brochure in Steve’s direction. “They’ve got an actual satellite here!”

Steve humored him with a gentle smile. “Yeah, well, let’s see if their friends are here first before we start looking at the exhibits.”

Bucky shrugged, unsurprised, and tossed the brochure back onto the counter as Steve said, “Let’s try this way.”

The first path led to a dead end, forcing them to back track. The second option led them to an exhibit hall so destroyed that even Steve could barely see over the mess. The third way led to another dead end, ending at a set of closed doors that no amount of shoving would get it open.

“Stairs it is then,” Wanda muttered.

The emergency stairwells were locked, so they made do with the main staircase. It wasn’t until they got onto the platform between levels that they started to hear the groans of runners overlaid with the ever-chilling clicks.

“Eyes up, stay sharp,” Steve said to them all, and Bucky slipped his knife into his hand and flipped it open. “Pietro, up with me. Wanda, stay back with James. Make sure nothing sneaks up on us.”

The layout was different to the one below. More spacious. More rooms and offshoots from the main one they were standing in. It didn’t seem like the noises were coming from any one direction. They went into the hallway on the right. Bucky hung back with Wanda as they walked, frequently flashing his flashlight back the way they came.

It happened when they passed by the entrance to another exhibit. Bucky flashed his light around the room, just looking, but his whole body came to a stop when he saw the satellite. He’d seen pictures of them before, but this was different, this was in the real. This hunk of metal had been in space!

He took one step toward it, then another.

_Crash!_

Bucky swung his whole body around toward the noise, ready to fight, only to see Pietro on the ground and Steve’s shocked face as the hallway’s fire doors slammed shut. He and Wanda were on the wrong side.

“Steve!”

“Pietro!”

A cacophony of screeches arose.

Bucky dropped his flashlight and ran up to the doors. Wanda joined him in pulling the handles with all their might. He could hear Steve on the other side pounding on the door and calling his name.

“Steve, it’s not budging!” Bucky shouted.

Wanda moved away and Bucky took over pulling on both handles. At this rate, he was going to rip them out of the door before they opened.

“James,” Wanda urgently said, tugging on his arm, “they’re coming!”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Bucky gave up and shouted, “Steve, we gotta move. We’ll find you.” He faintly heard Steve telling him to go before he pulled away.

“Let’s go,” Wanda implored.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. As he ran by the room, he saw a handful of clickers and runners headed their way. He followed Wanda to the main room and she turned right. They ran toward the next hallway, but skittered to a stop when two runners spilled out from it.

Bucky cursed and grabbed onto Wanda’s backpack to pull her back and to redirected her between the displays.

There weren’t many places to run, but through Wanda’s wild swinging of the flashlight, Bucky spotted a bathroom. An idea popped up in his head.

“To the left. The bathroom,” he told Wanda, switching directions.

He burst into the bathroom first, relieved to find it clear of infected. Wanda crashed into the room after him.

“Bar the door,” Bucky commanded.

Together they pushed the door closed against the onslaught of infected clawing at it. Luckily, there was a wall between the entrance and first stall, and they were able to use it as a counterweight. But, they were barely able to keep it closed.

Over the noise, Bucky said, “I’m gonna let it open just a little.”

“Are you crazy?!” Wanda shouted.

“Maybe!” Bucky was going to have to tell Steve that his self-preservation skills were contagious.

Bucky let up on pushing back a little, opening the door just wide enough for arms to start worming their way through the gap. When he shifted over toward the opening, trying to avoid the flailing arms, all he saw was spittle and snapping, rotted teeth.

He took a deep breath and got to work. Unafraid, but his heart beating wildly, he swung his arm without hesitation, knifing each infected in the head.

The hard part was getting the dead infected out of the way to reach the next, with how mashed together they were, but he figured out that, once he got the knife in, he was able to drag the body down far enough for the other infected to do the work of trampling it to the ground.

He got through three when he heard multiple gunshots going off. Swearing, Bucky worked faster, his strength draining the longer they had to push back on the door, but as the amount of infected dwindled, the more they could let up.

Minutes later, the last one fell, and the door banged shut with their weight. They took a moment to breathe and shake out their limbs.

Bucky eyed Wanda. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, you?”

Bucky nodded back. “You ready?”

“Let’s go.”

They left the bathroom, stepping over the pile of twitching bodies.

They only paused for Bucky to clean his knife before they set off to find the others. Wanda led them away with the flashlight, walking cautiously around displays and through exhibits. The gunshots had died out by now, but the silence was just as unnerving.

When they got further into the building, Bucky heard voices. He listened closer and smiled when he heard the deep timber of Steve’s voice.

“Steve?” he hesitantly called out. The talking stopped and a light appeared around the next corner followed by Steve’s head poking out from behind the wall with a, “James?”

“Pietro?” Wanda said next and Pietro appeared behind Steve. Wanda huffed and ran over to Pietro to wrap him into a tight hug.

A small part of Bucky wanted to do the same to Steve, show the relief he felt from Steve being alive, but Steve definitely did not seem open to hugging right now. So, Bucky settled on smiling and getting close. There was more blood on Steve, and this time it reached up to his throat and splattered onto his face. There didn’t look to be any bite, but Clint proved you never really knew.

“You look like you need another dip in the river,” Bucky joked.

Steve’s mouth curled. “Could say the same to you.” His eyes drifted over Bucky’s body, likely noting the blood and checking for bites on him as well. Something in his chest warmed. Even knowing that Bucky couldn’t be infected, Steve was still looking out for his wellbeing.

“What happened?” Wanda asked sharply, cutting through Steve and Bucky’s reunion.

“Not sure,” Pietro said. “There was a trip wire and it dropped some bottles and closed the doors behind us.”

“It’s an alarm,” Steve added. He nodded over the shoulder to the direction they came from. “People used to live here. There’re some sleeping bags. Not sure how many of these infected were actually the people living here. There were some skeletons, though.”

“Safe to assume we got them all though, yeah?” Bucky asked. “See a way out of here through all your running around?”

Steve sighed. “The main staircase on this side is covered in spores, and the other exit is blocked. We could go through the spores, but Pietro doesn’t have a mask.”

“Sorry, it broke a few weeks ago,” Pietro said, grimacing.

“We’ll just have to go up again then,” Wanda said.

Bucky, remembering the mask Clint gave him, scoffed, “And get into another fight with more infected? No thanks.” He shifted his belongings around, and pulled out the mask from his backpack with a ‘hah.’ He handed it over to Pietro who somehow looked both appreciative and confused.

“But don’t you need one?” Pietro asked.

“Nope, I’m good. Let’s get out of this shithole. I don’t think your friends are here, unfortunately.”

“James,” Steve practically growled. Bucky looked over to him to see his eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his face. “You need a mask.”

“Actually, I don’t,” Bucky chirped, and made his way around everyone. There was silence before they all spoke up in earnest, telling him his need for a mask.

The next room was covered with bodies, and Bucky stepped over a few as he marched toward the end of the hallway and into the last exhibit. He didn’t have a flashlight, but with the others chasing after him, he was able to see some spores off to left and headed that direction.

It was stupid of Bucky to believe that he could breathe in the spores, he hadn’t tested the theory before, but it made sense. If he couldn’t be infected by a bite, why would he be infected by spores?

“James, stop!” Steve yelled, and Bucky instinctively flinched away when Steve grabbed his arm. “Don’t do it.”

Bucky ignored him, though, and traipsed into the spores and down a couple steps. There was silence behind him as he breathed and waited.

Nothing happened. The effects were usually instantaneous. He should have been coughing and choking by now. Instead, he was breathing just fine.

Smiling to himself, he spun around. The others were standing outside of the affected area, wide-eyed. He didn’t miss the hand Steve had on his gun or the thunderous look on his face.

“See, I’m fine,” he reassured them. Then he waived them down. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“How _the fuck_ can you do that?” Pietro asked and put on his mask.

Wanda muttered something Bucky couldn’t understand and did the same with her mask.

Steve was the last to put on his mask, but the first to start down the stairs, brushing by Bucky wordlessly. Bucky trailed after him, trying not to feel like he fucked up because he didn’t fuck up. If there was another way out of there, Bucky would have gladly taken it, but with the staircases all locked and the main one covered in spores, there was little choice to make.

Getting out of the building from there was uneventful. There were no infected on the ground floor and there was a smashed window near the front doors for them to wiggle through.

It was hard to see in the dark which direction would be best to go, but it was better to find a place sooner rather than later.

“Maybe we should just follow the road north,” Wanda suggested, nodding ahead. “See where it leads us.”

Steve shrugged, “It’s a good plan as any. See if we can find a place to rest.”

They set off at a brisk walk, Steve in the lead and Bucky on his right. They were silent, except for Wanda and Pietro trailing behind, speaking in Sokovian. Bucky wasn’t exactly eavesdropping, but he heard other people’s names as they talked. Although he couldn’t understand them, he could tell by the tone of their voices that they were distressed. Bucky understood. It must be disheartening to find your whole group gone, probably dead.

Bucky cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. “What’re you guys gonna to do now?”

The siblings glanced at each other before Wanda spoke up, “You two are trying to find SHIELD, too, right? Maybe we could join you? We don’t know exactly where we’re going.”

Bucky looked over to Steve. He wanted to say yes, but Steve was also had a voice in this partnership, even if Bucky was the only one who thought so. Like before, Steve glanced at Bucky who gave him a shrug of indifference, leaving it up to him to decide. The siblings had proven themselves of being helpful and capable of keeping their heads when faced with infected and human enemies.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Steve said over his shoulder.

“Just know that _Steve’s_ in charge,” Bucky snickered and Pietro laughed.

“Shut it,” Steve replied, used to Bucky’s humor by now.

It only took about fifteen minutes to reach some row houses. Steve chose a house in the middle, one that had its front door unlocked and windows intact, and told them to wait outside as he cleared it.

“So, how did you do it,” Pietro asked. “Breathe in the spores?”

Bucky shrugged. He glanced at the house before leaning close to the others and muttering, “Don’t tell Steve I told you, but…I’m immune. Got bit a little over a month ago and never turned. That’s why we’re going to SHIELD.”

Pietro’s eyes went wide, and in contrast, Wanda’s narrowed. “Really?” she asked, skeptical.

Bucky nodded and after he shifted his backpack, lifted up the sleeve of his shirt to expose his scar. Wanda lit up with the flashlight.

Pietro leaned close, amazed, and ghosted a finger over it. “You got bit…and you didn’t change?” he asked. There was a bit of hope and wonder in his voice.

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, letting go of his sleeve just before Steve came back and waived them in.

Once they were all in, he locked and barred he door behind them and said, “There’s three bedrooms, but I wouldn’t go into the master, it’s a mess in there.”

The house was small, each room just large enough to fit the furniture it contained and nothing else. Steve went to the windows and pulled the curtains closed.

“Wanda can take the room down here and Pietro can take the couch,” Steve proposed. “James and I can take the room upstairs. It’s got more floor space than anywhere down here.”

No one objected, whether by the desire to rest or knowing that Steve was in charge, Bucky didn’t know. Bucky had a feeling, though, that Steve wanted to stay separate from the other two. Bucky supposed it made sense. They were still practically strangers after all.

The room upstairs was a good size with a twin bed shoved into the corner with the sheets still intact. It looked like the room of a teenage boy. Dark sheets. Posters of films and female models on the walls. An old television and some game console sat on the dresser. Clothes were strewn about the room as if someone had been searching through them and tossing them away.

“Some of these clothes might fit you,” Steve said as he put down his bag and started emptying it. “You should change into something dry and hang up those clothes.”

Bucky did what Steve suggested. He sifted through the clothes left behind and found a soft pair of shorts and a worn shirt in his size. He was more than happy to take off his waterlogged shoes and socks and leave them out to dry. Then, he went and faced a corner of the room to change his shirt and struggle to pull off his damp jeans that had begun to chafe. After glancing over his shoulder at Steve, who paid him no mind, Bucky carefully peeled away his underwear and quickly pulled up the shorts. Blushing, he hung up his clothes and unpacked the rest of his bag to set everything out to dry alongside Steve’s gear.

“Go ahead and take the bed,” Steve said, once Bucky was done cleaning his guns.

Bucky glanced at the bed. “You should –”

“No, it’s fine. I sleep better on the floor anyway.”

Knowing it was no use arguing, Bucky went to the bed and shook out the sheets and turned the pillowcase inside out. He settled into the bed, lying on his side facing the room, feeling the slight lumps that conformed to a different body. He pulled the sheets up to his chin. The sheets smelled stale and felt coarse on his skin, but the weight of the blanket and the mattress melted his spine.

“Are we going to find another car?” Bucky asked quietly.

Steve sighed as he put his gun back together. “Maybe later,” he replied. “Our first goal is getting the hell out of this city, and it’ll take too long to find a working one.”

“Sucks.” Then he snorted and said, “Maybe I should see if this guy is the same shoe size as me, too. In case mine get wet again.”

Steve huffed and shook his head. Bucky fell quiet and watched as Steve meticulously cleaned his weapons and set them out to dry.

Sleep quickly overtook him.

When Bucky awoke, before he even opened his eyes, he took a moment to steep himself in the warmth of the sheets. He wiggled his toes and stretched his tight muscles. Sighing, he finally opened his eyes. There was some light filtering in through the sides of the curtains. He rolled over to look at the floor. Steve was still sleeping, his breaths deep and slow. Steve had appropriated a jacket as a pillow and had some sort of silvery sheet draped over him. Bucky eyed the pale skin of his collarbones and shoulders that stuck out the top.

There was a light thud downstairs. It seemed the others awoken, so Bucky quietly got out of bed and left the room, leaving Steve to get some much-needed sleep. He kept his footsteps soft as he went down the stairs.

Pietro was up in the living room, looking out the window.

“Morning,” Bucky whispered, rubbing the crust from his eyes as he padded closer. Then he asked, louder, “How’d you sleep?”

Bucky was knocked off his feet and onto the flat of his back, his breath knocked from him. Pietro fell onto him, snarling, his eyes bright orange. Bucky struggled to fight him off and as soon as he could breathe, he took a deep breath and bellowed, “Steve!”

Pietro was rabid. Bucky wasn’t afraid of being bit, but he was afraid that Pietro could tear more flesh out of him than he could survive.

There was shouting around them. It felt like a lifetime before there was a gunshot, and blood splattered across Bucky’s face as Pietro’s head shattered above him. He was quick to push off the body and scramble away. He bumped up against a dining chair, panting.

“Oh my God,” he muttered to himself.

A warm hand cupped his face and turned it away from the sight in front of him. Bucky was looking into Steve’s blue eyes instead. They were soft and pleading. “James,” Steve said patiently, as if he’d been saying Bucky’s name for a while. “Are you hurt?”

Bucky shook his head.

There was choking sound, and, for a moment, Bucky thought it was him, but Steve looked away and Bucky could see Wanda, standing outside the bedroom door, gun in hand. Her hands were still up in Pietro’s direction, frozen, but her shoulders hitched with her sobs and her hands shook.

“Pietro,” she whispered. Then she chanted ‘no’ repeatedly before saying something in another language.

Steve moved in front of Bucky, raising himself into a half crouch. For the first time, Bucky noticed that he had run down in his boxers at Bucky’s shouting, only grabbing the gun left on the ground by his feet. He looked around Steve to watch as Wanda wept.

“Wanda,” Steve said, gently. “Please drop the gun.”

Talking only drew Wanda’s attention to Steve, and the gun was suddenly pointed in Steve’s direction. Steve raised his arms and took a step toward her.

“W-we should never h-have gone with you,” Wanda cried. “I told h-him we s-shouldn’t. We c-couldn’t trust you.”

“I’m so sorry, Wanda,” Steve said softly. “I’m so sorry, but I need you to drop the gun.”

She only cried harder and the gun drooped in her hands. “A-all my friends are gone.”

“Wanda, please drop the gun now.”

“He’s…he _was_ all I had,” she whimpered.

“I know, honey, I –”

Bucky barely had time to register what was happening before Wanda was putting the muzzle of the gun in her mouth and pulling the trigger.

He flinched and finally closed his eyes as her body hit the floor with a loud thud.

He felt sick.


	5. Yellowstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you've read the previous chapters and heed all the tags! ❤️

James was silent for days after leaving Pittsburgh. For someone who was normally so chatty, the silence was worrying. All he did was frown, eat, and practice slinging arrows when they stopped for a break.

Steve wasn’t much better. He could only think that Pietro had been bit during their encounter with the infected in the museum. Right under his nose. Like Clint, he had been bit because of a decision _he_ made. Splitting up at the courthouse was a bad plan. Pittsburgh was more than a bust. Maybe he was losing touch with his ability to lead and make the right call. At this rate, he was going to get James killed, too.

James had sat in stunned silence in the aftermath of the siblings’ deaths. So, Steve had taken a blanket from the couch and gently wiped James’ face clear of any blood before sending him upstairs to gather his things. Steve had then taken care of the bodies. He performed a cursory search of Pietro’s body and found a deep bite in his ankle. With a sunken heart, he wrapped them in the bedsheets from the bed downstairs and laid them together there. When he was done, James had appeared in the doorway and, without a word, began carving into the door:

RIP  
PIETRO – WANDA  
BROTHER – SISTER

James barely glanced at the bodies before shutting the door behind him.

Going cross-country by foot had its pros and cons. They didn’t need to follow roads exactly, they were free to traipse across farmland and through the thick copse of trees of the Midwest, and avoid the infected clustered around the cities and towns. But they didn’t have easy shelter, so afternoons were spent searching for the next place to stay for the night, checking the water-damaged map for possible sources of shelter, water, and food.

They kept a steady pace across Ohio, walking about ten to fifteen miles a day under the summer sun.

In order to spur James into talking again, and get his mind off the events of Pittsburgh, Steve offered to teach him some sign language and visual signals. James, like every new thing he encountered, took to it like a duck to water. He taught him the different names for the infected, weapons, movements, colors, directions, and whatever else James was interested in. The distraction seemed to work, and James started talking without prompting again as the days went by.

“You never said yes, but I was right, wasn’t I?” James asked as they walked down a two-lane highway. “You were in the military?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, after a moment. “Army. For about seven years.” The longer Steve spent with James, the more he realized how smart he really was. In between spouting off facts about space and physics, he was observant and quick to connect the dots. “Did you ever learn about nine eleven? Would’ve happened around when you were born, I think.”

“Just the basics. Terrorists flew some planes into some buildings. Lots of people died and America went to war.”

Steve nodded. “My father was in the army and I always wanted to be like him. My mother died shortly after I graduated high school and patriotism increased after the attack, so, it was kind of natural for me to enlist after high school. I was stateside on leave when the outbreak occurred.”

“And let me guess,” James grinned. “You were a captain.” Steve glared, but James wasn’t deterred. “What I don’t get is where the America came from.”

Sighing, Steve regarded James for a moment, taking in the broad grin surrounded by a dusting of stubble that had yet to fully fill out. James shaved it off every few days if he could, but Steve would admit that the stubble looked good on him.

“I was born on July fourth,” Steve admitted.

James snorted as he burst into laughter. “ _And_ you miss apple pie the most. Yeah, that’s a very accurate nickname.”

A couple hours later, they were taking shelter in a farm house near the border of Ohio and Indiana. Steve was using the dying daylight to pour over the map at the dinner table and plan their future route. He smiled when he realized they’d come near Kokomo, Indiana. It reminded him of his mother cleaning the house, dancing around to The Beach Boys on cassette, and found himself humming _Kokomo_ as he planned.

His humming was interrupted when James sat across the table from him, looking both unsure and serious, his shoulders tight with tension.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, sitting up and giving James his attention.

James bit nervously at his bottom lip and pulled the map closer to him. “I know you planned for us to go straight across,” he said nervously, dragging a finger straight across Indiana. “But I was wondering if we could go down and around Indianapolis?” He dragged his finger haphazardly along the path he proposed.

Steve studied James. “Theoretically, yes. It’s not like we’re in a hurry, but is there a reason you wanna go that way?”

James sighed and, after flipping a few pages to where there was a closer view of Indianapolis and the surrounding area, pointed to a town southeast of it. “I haven’t been home since this all started. And with going to Pittsburgh, where my dad died, and after what happened to Pietro and Wanda…I’ve just been missing home a bit. Wondered if, maybe, we could find my old house?”

Steve pulled the map closer and looked the town James pointed at. Shelbyville. He noted the river that sat next to it and followed it up north to where it ended, and mentally mapped the rest of the journey to where they were now. It would add a week or two to their timeline, but that point was moot as there was no real deadline as they didn’t know exactly where to go. 

“Do you remember where you lived?” Steve asked, glancing up from the map. James was young during the outbreak, it wouldn’t have been unusual for him to have forgotten where he lived.

“I don’t remember the exact number, but it was on Cherry Street, near a cul-de-sac. More on the outskirts, I think, I remember thinking the trip to the store felt like forever.”

Steve smiled gently and scanned the outskirts of the map for a Cherry Street. “Found it,” he said and tapped his finger on it. “I think it should be okay.”

“Really?” James sighed and his body relaxed as he smiled gratefully at Steve. “Thank you.”

Steve refused to acknowledge the warmth in his chest as anything other than a result of being nice. He shrugged like it was nothing. “Don’t worry about it. Who knows, maybe we’ll make this a cross-country tour of the sights.”

“If they’re still around,” James snorted and rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to go that far.”

“Might make all this walking a bit more fun.”

“Whatever you say.”

*

As Steve predicted, it took about a week to get to Shelbyville. Indiana was all green flatland and farms, as far as the eye could see. They encountered a few infected along their path, and even saw a mini-van driving on the highway as they walked fifty yards parallel to it, but otherwise the trip was uneventful.

Finding the house was easy, as it was near the outskirts of town. The houses were spread apart in a way that your neighbor was a still a stone’s throw away, but close enough to still give a sense of community. The house was a good-sized two story, which used to be painted light blue with a white door, under all the dirt. It looked untouched by any intruders, which was always a good sign.

James shifted the pot of a long dead plant, and picked up a key. Steve unceremoniously took the key from him, which earned him a look that he paid no mind to, and went to open the door.

Steve entered the house quietly with his hands up, knife in his left and handgun in his right. He quickly swept the rooms on the bottom floor and the connected garage before making his way up to the second floor, noting nothing there but a layer of dust and cobwebs in the corners of the rooms. There were three bedrooms and a bathroom. The first bedroom door had the name Becca on it, and the second had the name Bucky. He cleared those easily along with the bathroom, and went to clear the master.

He paused in there. On the rug, beside the king-sized bed, was a large bloodstain. On the naked mattress was a smaller bloodstain. A glance at the dusty photo on the dresser told him everything he needed to know. James, who was clearly around five or six, posed for a family portrait with his parents and little sister who was only a few years younger. Steve had only ever heard James talk about his father, so it was safe to assume either his mother or sister, or both, died in here.

Sighing, he moved on, clearing the bathroom before stomping down the stairs. James was by a wall of pictures frames, inspecting each one carefully, and Steve left him to it as he cleared the basement, which was organized and only a quarter of the way filled.

“All clear,” he told James when he made it back upstairs. James was still in the same spot.

“So,” Steve said, as he drifted over to where James was standing, and started to inspect the photos himself. Most he recognized to be James and his family, but others were probably of other relatives. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Steve repressed a smile as James’ head snapped to look at him and his cheeks filled with color. Then, James huffed and rolled his eyes before grumbling, “You know that’s me, asshole.”

Finally, Steve smiled. “And you said my nickname was bad.”

“Shut up, it is. Mine’s not so bad,” James argued with a glare. “My middle name’s Buchanan and my sister couldn’t pronounce it when she was little, so it stuck.”

Steve’s smile softened as he imagined a smaller James being trailed around by a younger girl and calling him ‘Bucky.’ “It’s cute,” he found himself saying, before realizing he shouldn’t have and blushed under James’ stare. He cleared his throat and turned back to the pictures. “I mean, it suits you.”

There was a palpable pause before James replied, “Thanks.”

Steve nodded to himself, feeling unmoored. He decided his best course of action was to run away. “I’m gonna set some traps around the area.”

“Want me to come with?” James asked.

Steve shook his head as he stepped away. “No, stay. Town doesn’t seem busy, but have your radio on just in case.” The fact that James didn’t protest showed how much he wanted to stay behind. He was usually chomping at the bit to pull his weight. “Maybe we can go grab some water when I need to check the traps.”

James nodded and went back to the pictures.

When Steve stepped back outside, he took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. Jesus, he needed to get control of himself. Shaking his head, he headed off toward the nearby river to set some traps.

An hour or two later, he returned in higher spirits and with a cloth full of wild berries he picked. When he didn’t immediately spot or hear James in the house, he called out for him as he put his things on the table. There was no answer. He was ready to race upstairs when he noticed the back door slightly open. So, he went outside, instead, to find him standing in the middle of the backyard.

“James?” Steve called out, trying his best not to spook him. James looked over his shoulder as Steve came closer and stood beside him before turning back to whatever had captured his attention.

Steve noticed the two crosses made of planks of wood nailed together at the head of two slightly lumpy patches of grass. One said Winnifred Barnes and the other Rebecca Barnes. For both of them to have died at home and be buried in the yard, they had to have been killed early on.

“I’ve forgotten the sound of their voices,” James said quietly. “Is that normal?”

Steve’s lips thinned as he nodded, thinking of his own mother. “Yes.”

He stood there for a few minutes longer and then turned to leave James to his vigil, but was stopped by James speaking up again. “You’re not gonna ask?”

Steve glanced at James who still had his eyes on the graves. “No,” he replied eventually, “but I’ll listen if you wanna talk about it.”

James pursed his lips and shifted on his feet. Steve waited patiently.

“We were in the movies, on the other side of town. And when we got out, there were people screaming and running in all directions. My dad tried to ask someone what was going on, but no one would stop. So, we ran to the car. I remember running by someone bleeding on the ground and wanting to stop, but my dad just was pulling on my arm. We almost made it when my mom started screaming. There was a guy… _biting_ her arm, so my dad punched him in the face and we started running faster.”

Steve remembered those early days well. The confusion and paranoia. Nobody really had any idea what was going on. The fungus was spreading like wildfire throughout the country and there were no vaccines or ideas on how to stop it. Just a mandate to stay inside and away from others.

“We made it home okay. Locked the doors, shut all the curtains, y’know. Did what the news was telling us. My parents wanted to keep us close, so we all slept in their bed at night. The next day we stayed inside and tried to watch the news, but nothing was airing. The radio was still going though, so we listened to that. My mom though…” James cleared his throat and sniffed. “She put on a brave face, but I could tell she wasn’t doing well. Her arm was getting nasty and she had to change her bandages constantly.”

He paused and took a deep breath. Steve could see him gathering his thoughts.

“That night, I slept between my dad and my sister, and my mom slept on the other side of her.” He paused again and his jaw clenched. With a shuddering sigh, he continued, “I woke up some time in the night because I thought I heard something. We’d been keeping the bathroom light on for Becca, so I could see a little bit. I looked toward the noise and my mom was just…” James cleared his throat and rubbed his face. Steve could see the way his eyes watered and his throat bobbed from holding back tears. “My sister’s neck was…obliterated and she was just lying there, staring at the ceiling. Blood was everywhere. Even on me I think.” He laughed humorlessly and sighed. “God, I can still see it so clearly in my head, y’know. It was like a – horror movie. Thought I was having a nightmare.”

James sniffed and wiped his face. “I don’t know what I did, but I must’ve made a noise, or moved too much or something, because suddenly my dad tossed me out of bed and yelled at my mom. But then she attacked him, too. I didn’t see what happened exactly, but my dad got her on the floor on the other side of the bed. There was a lot of shouting, and thumping. Then all I heard was my dad crying. _I_ was crying.

“He took me out of the room eventually. Tried to block me from looking at my mom, but I looked anyway…He used a lamp to bash her head. I remember the way she looked, too. Could barely see her face in the dark, but that didn’t really matter because her face was covered in blood.

“We pretended to sleep in my room. Sometimes we could hear screaming from outside, and gunshots, and he’d just hold me tighter, then. And in the morning, he tried to call for people to come help us with the bodies, but all the lines were dead and the radio was, too. So, he started digging these. Just for something to do, I think. I helped where I could. And he let me carry Becca down to the yard. But once we filled in the graves, he broke down. He was real quiet for days, and I didn’t know what to do. I think he probably would’ve offed himself then if I wasn’t there. We stayed until the food ran out, and then we packed our things and started walking.

“Ran into Nick on the road with his family. Thankfully, he didn’t shoot us on sight.” James laughed, and Steve allowed himself to smile. “They told us about the quarantine zone in Pittsburgh, so we went there together.”

“Were you there?” Steve found himself asking. “During the uprising?”

James nodded absentmindedly.

“We were there for about three months before it started. My dad died near the beginning of it,” he divulged, jaw tight. “Rebels killed him because he wouldn’t join them. He told them he just wanted to look after me. But after he refused, during the next fight with the military, one of them came and shot him in front of me. Guy told me he deserved it.” He paused. “They did horrible things.”

“I’m sorry. No one deserves that,” Steve responded.

“Thanks,” he said, directing his gaze to Steve. “I got my revenge though. Found the guy a week later and killed him. It was…the first time I killed someone.”

“Didn’t make you feel better, did it?”

James shook his head and smiled humorlessly. “Not really.”

A few moments later, James asked, “Is it wrong of me to be glad that they aren’t here? That they don’t have to live through his shit?”

Steve remembered having the same feeling. “No, I don’t think so. What we do isn’t living; we’re just surviving. That’s no kind of life.”

They stood quietly until Steve figured, again, that he should leave James in peace. Steve turned, and grasped James’ elbow lightly. “Thank you for telling me. I can’t imagine how hard going through that was,” Steve said quietly and squeezed his elbow. “I’ll let you have some privacy. I’ve got some berries if you want them, when you come in.”

James smiled up at him, his eyes soft, and nodded. He then said kindheartedly, “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked about them. And even though it hurts, it’s good to remember them.”

Steve nodded and kept his mouth shut to prevent himself from turning into a hypocrite by agreeing with him.

With a final squeeze, he left James alone, and went back inside.

Steve set out their flashlights and radios to recharge in the sun and then spent some time snacking on berries and reading a book from the shelf before going to prepare the beds for the night. They didn’t do it often, but, once in a while, they shared a room or a bed, if it was large enough. It depended on how many rooms were available and if they were situated in a way to make Steve comfortable. But today, he thought James would like somebody close. Or maybe, _he_ wanted to be close. He couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to look so closely at it. So, he took the twin-sized mattress from James’ sister’s room and plopped it on the ground beside the bed, in the space closest to the door.

He was in the middle of preparing the sheets when James appeared in the doorway. He had a soft smile on his face as he looked around.

“Shit, I remember all this,” he said in awe as he played with the Legos on top of the dresser. Then he moved on to the books on the shelves and examined the clothes in the closet and dresser. Steve sat on the floor and watched in amusement as he moved from corner to corner, re-discovering his old room. Steve liked seeing the way his face lit up whenever he found something he forgot about.

When James decided he wanted to look at Becca’s room, Steve followed. Leaning in the doorway, he watched as James stood in the room, looking around in reverence and solemnity. His fingers lightly brushed over her clothes, wiggled her toys, and stuffed animals around. There were still some lying about on the ground, so he collected them and put them where they belonged. He then picked up a stuffed bear with a blue jacket from the nightstand and held it gently in his hands. With a choked laugh he said, “She called this her Bucky Bear. Always had the damn thing with her when she was younger and wouldn’t sleep without it…I always pretended it was annoying, but I secretly liked it.”

Steve smiled sadly when James put it back on the nightstand and followed him into his parent’s bedroom. James merely glanced at the bloodstains before quickly moved on and did the same thing he did in the other rooms. He looked over the pictures, sorted through his mother’s jewelry, and touched all their clothes. He paused in the closet and pulled out a Harrington jacket. It was navy blue with a red and blue plaid lining.

“This was my father’s favorite. He was always wearing it,” James said as he examined it.

Steve looked at the jacket and saw the way James held it in his hands. He said, “You should keep it, and maybe grab another hoodie and long sleeve shirt while you’re at it. The weather’s going to get cold soon.”

James nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” James threw the jacket on, and Steve smiled when he noticed that it was slightly big on him, but not enough to be a hindrance.

“Looks good,” he commented and James smiled brightly up at him.

Steve left him to it and continued setting up the beds. When he was finished, he headed downstairs to find James taking down two pictures from the wall and bringing them to the dining table.

Steve sat at the table and snacked on some berries as he watched James take the pictures out of the frames and slip them between the pages of a book, but not one he recognized as one he already had.

“What book you got there?” he asked.

James held the book up. _Pride and Prejudice_. Steve raised a brow. James’ usual realm of choice was science fiction and fantasy.

“It was my mom’s favorite,” James explained. “She read it once a year, I think, and sometimes she’d read it to us on a snowy day.”

Steve hummed. “My mother was partial to Emily Bronte.”

He was surprised when James’ head snapped up and looked at him oddly. Steve’s brow furrowed slightly in response. He didn’t think he said anything weird. But then James smiled brightly and looked back down as he put the picture frames back together.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is,” James admitted.

“She was an 1800s author, too. My ma had her and her sister’s whole collection. She liked their poems the best though.”

Steve spent the afternoon talking about his mother as James talked about his family, until they had to go collect the traps and get water from the river. They returned with a fox and a rabbit, more berries, and a painter’s bucket full of water. They made two fires in the backyard, one for boiling water and the other for cooking the meat. James was tasked with boiling the water and Steve concentrated on preparing the meat. They ate as the sun went down and, afterward, used some of the water to wash up.

They went to bed that night semi-clean with full bellies, Steve sleeping on Becca’s bed, underneath the blankets he found in the hall closet.

Steve was almost asleep when he heard James speak up, his voice quiet in the night. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” he murmured, rolling over to face James.

“Could you call me Bucky? No one’s called me that in a long time.”

Touched that James would ask him to call him a family nickname, he immediately replied, “Yeah, sure Bucky.”

Bucky grinned sleepily. “Thanks.”

Steve was about to roll back over when James piped up again. “Can I ask you something?” He opened his mouth to make the obvious joke when Bucky cut him off with, “And don’t say I just did.”

He huffed, smiling into his pillow. He was getting predictable. “Sure.”

“Why did you leave SHIELD?”

The question made Steve pause. It wasn’t something he liked to think or talk about. The reason dredged up guilt and made it hard for him to fall asleep at night. He wasn’t sure if he should tell Bucky – he definitely wouldn’t have two weeks ago – but he shared so much of himself today that Steve felt that it was okay to give in a little bit. Show a bit of himself to someone who wanted it.

“We were at the last HYDRA facility, or what we thought was the last one anyway. And we attacked in the middle of the night. My team placed bombs around the main building, where their leaders supposedly slept, and where they held most of their gatherings. We placed enough material to blow it to kingdom come. So, that’s what I did. Blew it up.” Steve mimicked the sound of an explosion and his hands fanned outward. “While we were leaving, there was a prisoner who asked us if we got out the other ones from the basement.”

Steve stopped, remembering the way his heart pounded and sunk into his stomach at the question. Uncomprehending, he had to ask the man to repeat himself to wrap his head around the it.

He continued, his voice flat, detached. “Turns out the few prisoners we found were just the overflow. The main prison was in the basement of the building we had just blown to smithereens. Said there were about twenty of them in there. When I told Nick and Peggy what happened and asked if we had any intel about it, they didn’t even try to hide their surprise. Of course, they knew about it. They just chose not to tell me. And when I asked them why, they said they thought those people were worth sacrificing to rid the world of HYDRA for good. And, y’know, I found myself agreeing for a second, before I realized what I was agreeing to.

“The one thing I wanted when we started SHIELD was to save innocent people and I realized right then that I lost that. I never even questioned if there were innocent people in that building. They told me I needed to take it down and I did, no questions asked, because I wanted HYDRA to burn so much, I didn’t care about who I was burning in the process.

“So, I left. I didn’t like who I became. Didn’t like what SHIELD became, either. And not like what we did mattered anyway, nothing changed.”

“That’s fucked up,” Bucky mumbled.

“Yeah, it was.”

Bucky rolled to the edge of the bed and reached down to lightly grasp Steve’s wrist. “Thanks for telling me,” Bucky replied, and, after a beat, said quietly, “It’s nice learning about you.”

“Oh, um…” Steve trailed off, trying to think of a response, half distracted by the warmth of Bucky’s hand. He knew he wasn’t a very open person. He was tough to get to know. Tough to get close to or even talk to at all.

Bucky snorted and rolled away. “Don’t hurt yourself there, pal.”

“‘Night, Buck,” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

“‘Night.”

Steve could hear the smile in his voice.

The next day, before they planned to set out, Steve found Bucky in the garage next to a motorcycle, wearing his father’s jacket.

“It’s a nice bike,” Steve said and went to look it over. It was a black Harley Davidson Electra Glide. A 2008 model, if he was correct, with a second seat at the back with storage, all still in good condition.

“Yeah, my dad had traded in his old one to get this,” Bucky replied. “Said he wanted to be able to take me and Becca for a ride one day. Have you ever ridden one?”

“I had a Kawasaki, totally different than a Harley like this.”

Bucky brandished a set of keys. “Should we try and see if it still works?”

Steve glanced from the keys to the bike, doubtful it'd start, but he took the keys anyway. He approached the front of the bike and found the ignition. Steve glanced at Bucky. He was waiting in anticipation, his hands held aloft with fingers crossed.

Steve turned the key and his eyes went wide as the engine tried to catch. He turned the key back and looked to Bucky who looked just as shocked.

“C’mon, try again,” Bucky encouraged.

It took four more tries before the engine finally roared to life. Steve raised his arms in success and was surprised when he felt a set of arms wrap around his torso, Bucky’s head tucked behind his shoulder. Flustered by the hug, Steve missed Bucky’s excited chatter. Steve lowered his arms and gingerly patted the arm around his waist until Bucky finally pulled away.

“Please tell me we can ride it!” Bucky practically demanded over the noise.

Steve grinned at the enthusiasm in Bucky’s voice.

“We’ll let the engine run for a few minutes, then I’ll take it around the block for a test drive. If it looks good, then yes.”

Bucky whooped and ran back into the house. Sighing, Steve tried to wrangle his swirling emotions and, after finding it useless, followed Bucky inside. If they were going to use the bike, he’d need to map out a new route, and Bucky needed to know how to ride as a passenger.

The bike proved to be in good shape, even with only half a tank. He warned Bucky that it wouldn’t get them far, but Bucky seemed pleased to just have the chance of riding it. They shoved their bags into the storage compartments, but kept their weapons on them.

Bucky hesitated getting on the bike until Steve nodded for him to get on, and he grabbed onto Steve’s shoulder for balance as he swung a leg over. Steve helped him place his feet and pulled him close enough that his knees were bracketing Steve’s hips.

“Put your hands wherever you want,” Steve called back, then heard what he said and winced. That was an open invitation to grope, if he ever heard one. “I mean, wherever’s comfortable.” He could hear Bucky laugh and felt a hand pat his side consolingly before both settled firmly on his waist.

Steve revved the engine, and after one last look at Bucky’s childhood home, sped off.

*

Like Steve predicted, the bike didn’t last long. It sputtered out just past the border of Indiana and Steve was surprised that Bucky only complained about it once as they set out on foot.

This leg of the trip felt vastly different any other part. There was an ease to their dynamic, a rhythm making their journey easy and enjoyable. Bucky cracked jokes and Steve’s hard exterior chipped away each time. Instead of deciding everything on his own, Steve would often ask for Bucky’s opinion, which he usually gave after careful consideration. It felt like traveling with his old friends again.

Illinois was crossed almost lazily as the summer heat burned off into a fall chill. They spent a few days in a house by the Mississippi River. Bucky practiced his archery by trying to catch game, while Steve mended holes in their clothes. The house had powdered detergent and one of those old washing boards, so Steve chipped away a chunk of the detergent, and took the opportunity to thoroughly wash all their clothes.

At one point, Bucky wanted to swim in the river, but Steve had to remind him that he wasn’t a strong swimmer and the current was strong enough to drown even the strongest; not to mention the fact there were still probably some chemicals floating around in there. He hadn’t seen Bucky pout so much since Boston. Bucky even went so far as to grumble something under his breath at him. Steve only caught the word ‘naked,’ making Steve suspicious enough to ask Bucky to repeat himself. Bucky blushed so deeply, Steve thought he would combust.

They moved faster through the north side of Missouri and through the lower part of Iowa. The weather being just cool enough to not worry about dehydrating too fast as they walked for longer periods of time. Then they followed the Missouri River up into plains of South Dakota and finally started heading west again as summer turned to fall.

Near the western border of South Dakota, where the plains turned to forests, Steve found a cabin by a lake for the night, and as a surprise the next day, took Bucky to see Mount Rushmore. Steve wouldn’t say that he was super surprised when Bucky showed more enthusiasm for the first bison he saw than a carving full of presidents who didn’t even matter much anymore. But he listened attentively when Steve told the story of how they created the monument. And when Steve even went so far as to tell him how the Native Americans had tried to reclaim the land in the 1970s by occupying the top of the monument for months, Bucky listened to every word with a serene smile on his face.

What happened after, though, boggled Steve. They stopped by the gift shop and, after clearing the two clickers in there, browsed through the goods. Bucky laughed at the little trinkets as Steve flipped through some of the books.

After fifteen minutes or so, Steve suggested leaving, but Bucky only laughed from behind the checkout counter. “Without getting a gift for your date? That seems rather thoughtless of you, Mr. Rogers,” Bucky mocked, leaning forward onto the counter and propping his chin in his hand. His smile was coy and his cheeks were flushed.

“My date?” Steve echoed, confused.

“Yeah, he deserves something nice after you schlepped him all the way up a large ass mountain to stare at some rocks, don’t you think? Something good. None of those three dollar keychains.”

Steve stood there, staring bewilderedly at Bucky. Did he miss something? Did he say this was date? Did people even _date_ in the apocalypse? Most people just fell into bed together, if Steve recalled correctly. There was no time for romance and flowers when you could die anytime.

Something in him jolted and sunk, though, when he saw Bucky’s smile falter and start to fall. So, he cleared his throat and nodded.

“Right, a gift,” he announced. He looked around, helpless. “Any ideas?”

Bucky’s grin returned bright as ever. “Anything to remember this trip by will work, I think.”

Steve took a lap around the room, looking for anything that Bucky would like, trying to remember if he lingered over anything or dismissed something outright earlier. In the kid’s section, he came across a knock off memorial Lego set and, after remembering the Lego set in his bedroom, picked up a box. He glanced over his shoulder at Bucky, who hadn’t moved and watched unabashedly with a smile fixed to his face. One more gift should suffice. Bucky deserved it, right?

The clothing was nearby. The cold was starting to set in, and Bucky only had one long sleeve. He perused the leftover selection and found a nondescript one in Bucky’s size. The design was simple, just the memorial name in a circle around an image of it in white print on the back and on the breast.

A shirt and a Lego set, not bad for a gaudy gift shop, right? Nerves on the rise, Steve returned to the counter and placed them in front of Bucky. He asked, “How are these?” Steve could feel himself blushing. He ducked his head and ran a nervous hand over his beard.

Bucky stood up straight and with an impassive face looked them over, inspecting the Lego box and holding the shirt up to check out the design.

“I think they’ll do,” Bucky finally said, smiling. He pushed them back over the counter to Steve. “Good luck. I hope he likes them.”

Steve chuckled, playing along. “Yeah, me too.”

He held them as Bucky made his way back around the counter and towards Steve.

“What’cha got there?” Bucky asked, smirking, when he came to a stop in front of Steve.

“Uh, gifts. For you,” he said as he handed them over.

“Aw, Steve, you shouldn’t have. They’re perfect.” Bucky managed to sound both surprised and touched as he inspected the items, acting like he hadn’t just looked them over seconds before. Reaching out, Bucky gave his forearm a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Steve looked bashfully down at his feet. “That’s all right. Your presence was gift enough for me.”

Obviously pleased, it was Bucky’s turn to flush as he grinned.

With a smile on his face, Steve nodded towards the door. “Ready to get out of here?”

They left and got back to the cabin without further incident.

Every second Steve’s brain had free that afternoon was spent mulling over the events from the store and the little touches Bucky gave him while they walked back, wondering what the hell that was and feeling quite uneasy at the thought that he quite enjoyed whatever it was that was transpiring. It had been a long while since he had flirted, and had been flirted with, especially with someone as attractive as Bucky. Steve had to pause, though, because he just – if not finally – admitted to himself that he thought Bucky was attractive. There was something very pleasing about the curl to his lips, the intensity of his gray eyes, and the sharpening jaw.

Once Steve let himself recognize his attraction, it was now obvious to him that Bucky, at the very least, found him attractive, too. Steve would be a liar if he didn’t admit that he might have caught a little bit of feelings for Bucky along the way as well, just enough to acknowledge that something _might_ be there.

Steve briefly lingered over Bucky’s young age, but if it wasn’t for his youthful face and his penchant for pouting, Steve wouldn’t have guessed he was so young. Children who grew up during the outbreak grew up fast, giving them almost similar life experiences when it came to the realities of the new world, especially loss and violence. So, Bucky was young, yes, but Steve wasn’t going to deny his feelings if that was his only worry about someone who was of majority and more than capable of making decisions for themselves.

Maybe he’d see how this all played out. If it was meant to be, it would happen. Let nature run its course.

Of course, nature was never on Steve’s side.

That night, he was rudely reminded why he couldn’t go down that road with Bucky. Steve woke up in a sweat. He stared out into the dark room, held captive by his nightmares. Clint’s blood seeping through his own fingers from where they clasped his neck, reaching toward Steve for help, only to turn in front of his eyes, forcing Steve to kill him. Pietro being ripped apart in a hoard, the sickening noise of tearing flesh and terrified screaming ringing in his years. And Bucky, just out of reach, crying, and bleeding out from countless deep bites. They kept replaying in his head.

He rolled over and watched Bucky sleeping, his face slack and breathing slow and steady. Bucky was his responsibility, just like Clint and Pietro had been. They all suffered from Steve’s decisions, just like so many others had before.

Steve’s fingers caressed and twirled the bracelet around his wrist. To lose someone you love more than life damages your heart.

If he fell in love and lost Bucky, too, he wasn’t sure if his damaged heart could handle the strain.

*

When they continued their journey, Steve was conscious of every word he spoke and every action he made toward Bucky. He tried to keep the status quo. Careful to not turn a cold shoulder and also stay friendly, but not too friendly and trail off into flirting territory. Made sure his gaze or touch never lingered. He was doing well at it, he thought, even though a part of him ached every time he had to turn away or change the topic. He could tell that Bucky knew something was up. Sometimes he could see Bucky frowning out the corner of his eye or sighing when he didn’t draw the response he wanted out of Steve. But as long as Steve stayed companionable, Bucky had nothing to complain about.

Midway through Wyoming, bundled in warmer clothes as snow appeared, Steve finally asked the question he’d been wanting to ask for a while: “How’d you get bit, anyway?”

“Well, uh,” Bucky said with a grimace. “My friend, Gabe, and I sometimes snuck out and went to that mall over between Area One and Two.”

“You mean the mall the military condemned because there’re too many entrances and exits to cover and it’s where people often become infected?” Steve deadpanned.

“Yes, _Dad_ , that one,” Bucky replied, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, we liked going there because of the arcade…and also the…mattress store? Right next to?”

Steve stopped and stared hard at Bucky who blushed while smiling awkwardly. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You got bit because you and your friend wanted to go to the mall to get off,” Steve said disapprovingly.

“Not all the time! Just once every few months. We really did play arcades most of the time.”

“And here I thought you were smart.”

“Aw, c’mon, I obviously learned my lesson,” Bucky complained. “And it’s not like the military’s very welcoming of gay people, even though they could use everyone they can get now. So, where were we supposed to do it? In those flimsy beds across the hall from our C.O.? No, thank you.”

Steve merely raised his arms in surrender and started walking again. He had nothing more to say on the matter, he’d had sex in some weird places, too, after the outbreak. He’d be a hypocrite to suggest anything else.

“Anyway,” Bucky went on, “that time Gabe wanted to go to the record store to see if there were any more CDs to take, and we played some music when we got there. Then, I think you can guess what happened from there. A bunch of runners came out of nowhere. We killed most of them, but we both got bit while trying to escape.” Bucky’s tone turned somber as he continued. “We didn’t know what to do, but – there aren’t many choices at that point are there? We could either kill ourselves or turn together…I was so afraid of dying that I was more than happy to wait around, but Gabe treated it like a fight for more time. I just thought of it as a ticking clock. So, what a coincidence that out of the two of us, I was the one saddled with immunity and killing my best friend?”

Sniffling, he fell into silence and Steve glanced over at him to see him deep in thought with a lowered head. A moment later, he spoke up again, “I’m still a little afraid of dying, but who isn’t, y’know? So, I’m going to do what Gabe can’t do anymore, I’m gonna fight for life and more time. There’s only so much of it now, I think we can all do with as much as we can get, right?”

Bucky looked to Steve then, his head tilted with a gentle smile.

Steve couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah, I think so.”

*

Yellowstone went over better with Bucky than Mount Rushmore did. Steve took him first to Old Faithful, which was still…faithful. And at first Bucky complained about Steve taking him to a place that smelled of rotten eggs, but once he learned it stemmed from volcanic activity, he was grabbing brochures, maps, and books left right and center from the nearby visitor’s center and taking time to read every part of the exhibit.

Finding a place to stay for the night was a little tricky, but they cleared out one of the smaller stores of infected and hauled over a queen-sized mattress and some sheets from one of the rooms at the inn a few steps away, which was no doubt still full of infected, if the clicking noise was any indication. There were also bicycles in decent shape in the lobby, probably from more recent visitors, so Steve took those as well. It wasn’t snowing regularly enough to cover the roads much, and it would get them around faster. They needed the speed if Bucky’s plans were going to come to fruition.

The first day was spent in the Upper, Midway, and Lower Geyer Basins. They biked leisurely along the main road and stopped at points of interest along the way. Bucky animatedly went from one interest point to the next, once complaining about how he wished he had a camera.

Steve had never been to Yellowstone and his awe matched Bucky’s, who was seeing it all for the first time, too. His hand itched for a pencil or some charcoals, an urge he hadn’t felt in years. Staying in Boston made it hard to remember that there were beautiful places like this still out there. Places where nature was just being nature. Steve appreciated the reprieve the scenery gave in this little corner of the world. He didn't have to worry about SHIELD, HYDRA, or the infected.

They spent the night in a small museum at the next basin along the route and explored the land there the next morning. Bucky’s enthusiasm for sightseeing hadn’t waned overnight, and it was certainly rubbing off on Steve. It felt like he was on vacation, albeit one that was dotted by infected here and there, but that was barely a blip on his radar. He was keeping his self-made promise, though, keeping things friendly. At the same time, though, he allowed himself to savor this time with Bucky. They weren’t too far away from Portland now, in a little over a month, he’d be able to hand Bucky off to Tony, and ask him to get Bucky to SHIELD for him. Make a clean break of it.

Steve watched as Bucky tried to read an informational placard, his brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to make out the worn-out words. The cold made Bucky’s nose and cheeks red, and his lips chapped. He’d miss this, he knew, so he took mental photographs for safekeeping, moments to bring out on his darker days.

Later, they rode northward again, barely stopping until they hit the Mammoth Hot Springs, and after stopping to eat a little, they rode around the upper terrace.

One of the viewpoints overlooked the town nearby that they planned to stay the night at, but there was something peculiar about it. A high, wooden wall surrounded the northern part of town, starting from the main street that sectioned off the northern part and all the way around the back. He couldn’t see any movement from so far away, but the couple of plumes of smoke told him there were at least fires going. The lower part of town was free of smoke signals and walls, making him believe that it wasn’t too large of a contingent inside at least. A hundred at best, if they were smart and left room to grow. It was hard to tell if they would be friend or foe. He couldn’t even tell if they had lookouts.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, and Steve realized he was staring too hard at the obvious settlement.

“There’re people settled in the town, on the north side,” Steve replied. “You see the walls and the smoke?”

Bucky squinted in the direction Steve pointed to and nodded. “Should we turn around?”

“No, we’ll wait until dusk, then we’ll ride over and see if we can get past them. Doesn’t look like they have any lookouts.”

Bucky frowned, but didn’t say anything further.

They continued wandering as they waited for dusk to settle in, but Steve could tell by the rise of Bucky’s shoulders and the dampened smiles that he was worried about the town settlement. Steve couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t a little concerned himself. As long as they kept their head down and moved along, the settlers might not even concern themselves with Steve and Bucky, but they’d be wrong not to.

As the sun began to set and the chill started to kick in even more, they biked their way quietly up the road toward the town. It didn’t take long to get there, and Steve still had yet to see any lookouts upon their approach, but he pulled out his gun just in case anyway and steered one-handed. He prepared to veer off away from the north side of town once they reached the first intersection, but he pulled to a stop at the sound of multiple guns cocking.

“Holster your weapon and get off the bikes. Slowly,” a woman with a British accent commanded.

Steve froze, not from the command, but from the voice, he’d know it anywhere. His chest tightened and he took a deep breath to ease it. He supposed it was inevitable that this happened once he left Boston. The world had only gotten smaller as time passed.

He did as she asked, and saw Bucky following his lead out of the corner of his eye. With his arms raised, he turned slowly in the direction of the voice. There were four people standing behind the top of the wall with rifles trained on them.

“You really gonna shoot a man who’s just passin’ through, Pegs?” Steve hollered.

Peggy, standing on the left, lowered her gun. “Steve?” she called back in disbelief.

Steve grinned despite himself and waved. From what he could see in the dying light, she looked the same as he’d last seen her. Thick brown hair curled to her shoulders and an army green jacket wrapped tight around her. A part of him ached, like pressing on an old wound that never healed properly.

“Get your ass in here, Rogers,” she said then waved toward someone inside. Immediately, a part of the wall opened outward.

Steve picked up his bike and motioned from Bucky to do the same. As Bucky walked next to him, he leaned over and whispered, “Is that Peggy? From SHIELD? Is this SHIELD?”

“Not sure,” Steve whispered back as they passed through the gates, which opened to a concrete road. There was a willowy brunette Steve didn’t recognize standing just inside of the gate. Behind her, on opposite sides of the road was an old restaurant and a gift shop that was converted into a barn of sorts, if the sheep being herded inside indicated anything. Ahead of them was a bunch of small, rectangular structures that Steve deduced were for housing the residents. The settlement then stretched far to the right to include some additional large buildings.

Now that Bucky asked, nothing about this little set up felt like SHIELD. SHIELD took a more proactive approach to patrolling their camps with everyone pitching in to do. Here, there were a few people patrolling, but it was a more relaxed atmosphere with people milling about.

“So, you’re the famous Steve then,” the woman said, her lips tilting into a smile.

He eyed her. “‘Fraid so.”

“You can leave those bikes against the wall, no one will take them.”

He and Bucky walked their bikes to lean them against the wall and they walked back to where they were before. Hearing a set of footsteps, Steve observed Peggy as she approached. Yes, she still looked the same, maybe with a few extra crow’s feet about the eyes, but ultimately still so unruffled by the world that Steve could almost imagine the trademark red lipstick she used to wear every day upon her lips.

She stopped several paces away and regarded him with apprehension. To anyone else, she might have seemed calm, cool, and collected, but Steve could see her nerves in the way her fingers twitched and how she shifted her weight from foot to foot. He didn’t blame her for being anxious. Though their split had been amicable, as it was done in an explosive fashion due to their tempers, both saying hurtful things in the process. But they had finally come to an understanding that the new world they were living in had turned them into different people. Neither of them was at fault.

He missed her, though. She was his best friend, once upon a time, someone who knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. Now that he was in her presence again, he felt whole.

Knowing she was waiting on him, he smiled gently and took the first step forward. They met in the middle and embraced each other with a hug so tight he had trouble drawing breath. He buried his face in her curls and felt a wave of emotion overcome him.

“I missed you,” she whispered into his ear, and he could do nothing but return the sentiment and hold her a little tighter.

They finally pulled away from each other a few moments later, grinning at one another. Steve blinked away the wetness in his eyes and he saw her doing the same.

She reached up and lightly tugged on the hair that hung by his ears. With a laugh, she teased, “What happened here?” Then she poked his chest and arms. “And here? You lost some muscle.”

There was a sort of choking and snorting noise behind them that Steve immediately knew it was Bucky as Peggy looked past Steve. He glanced over his shoulder to see Bucky waiving a hand.

“You mean, he was bigger than this?” he nearly squawked.

“Oh, you should’ve seen him,” Peggy razzed. “Buttons strained themselves.”

“Now _that_ is something I would’ve loved to see.” The interest in Bucky’s voice was unmistakable and Steve gave Bucky a look of disproval.

Peggy laughed. “You going to introduce your friend or did you lose all your manners when you decided to go all lumberjack?”

“I don’t know, I think the lumberjack look really works for him,” Bucky grinned, shameless.

Peggy raised an eyebrow as Steve colored. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He never thought about Bucky and Peggy meeting, but if he did, he would’ve thought their similar personalities would’ve clashed, not push them together and create make-fun-of-Steve-time.

“Peggy, this is James,” Steve finally said, motioning to Bucky. “James, Peggy.”

“Hi,” Bucky said with a nod of his head.

“Hello,” Peggy said with a nod of her own. Peggy then looked to the woman who greeted them. “Steve, this is my – partner, Angie.”

“Partner,” Steve parroted, and it took a few seconds of looking at Peggy’s soft smile for it to click. “ _Oh_. Partner. That’s – that’s great.” He then looked to Angie and lifted a hand, “Nice to meet you.”

Amused, Angie mirrored his motion and said, “You too.”

At Steve’s acceptance, Peggy’s smile grew and she admitted, “We actually got married last year.”

Steve’s eyebrows flew up, “Wow, congrats.” Steve wasn’t surprised that she ended up re-marrying, he never expected her to stay single. In the early days following their split, the thought of her moving on would’ve made him hurt and jealous, but in time, he got over it and had realized that it was inevitable. She had too much passion not to find someone else to share her life with.

“Thank you,” she replied, happy. “C’mon, let’s –”

“Someone told me that the fun was over and they were right! Carter, this is exactly why I said we should stay in Portland. Now we need to relocate to somewhere Captain Buzzkill can’t find us. Tell me, are you legally allowed to travel to Mexico or Canada? They don’t make you give up the title, do they, when you go abroad?”

Steve sighed heavily and hung his head. If the phrase ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ held any meaning, it would apply to Tony Stark. The moment he heard Tony’s voice, Steve was instantly reminded of the reasons why they butted heads so often. Tony had a good heart, and the best intentions, but they didn’t always see eye to eye. For example, they didn't agree on the proper way to greet someone you hadn’t seen in years. Steve loved him as much as he did any other close friend, but sometimes could only handle him in low doses.

How fortuitous and concerning it was to meet both Peggy and Tony here, though. With no signs of SHIELD, that meant Peggy had left the organization she had built from her blood, sweat, and tears, and that Tony, the smartest person left on the continent probably, wasn’t in on Fury's mysterious cure. However, Peggy, of all people, would know where SHIELD was and she could take Bucky to them. Steve could then move on with his life and pretend that Bucky Barnes never existed.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve greeted genially, not rising to the bait that Tony had so obviously tried to tease out of him. Tony looked a little older with more gray in his hair and ridiculously shaped goatee he insisted on keeping.

“Hi, Cap.” Tony smirked and moved into Steve’s space for a quick hug. “How’re you?”

Steve nodded. “Could be worse. How about you and Pepper?”

Tony then smiled in a way that he’d never seen before, proud and unequivocally happy. “We’re good. She’s actually –”

A radio came to life from Peggy’s waist, interrupting Tony and snapping Peggy into business mode. All Steve could make out was something about riders, but Peggy seemed to understand because she whistled for attention, signing to the top of the wall, and then ordering the gates open.

Turning to the small group, Peggy said, “We’re going to have to scooch over, we have our patrol coming in and I doubt any of us would like to get trampled on.”

They all drifted over a couple paces, and in the next moment, two people rode in on horseback at a gallop.

“You guys have horses, too,” Bucky all but gasped from beside Steve.

Then yellow lights began lighting up inside the settlement, along the walls, buildings, and streets all on their own.

“And electricity?!” Bucky added.

“Yeah, the solar panels were easy to make once we got all the parts,” Tony pointed out. “Those should do until I get the water running. Preferably, before winter sets in. Then I’ll get something a more stable.”

“That’s amazing,” Bucky said. He then gripped Steve’s elbow and Steve met Bucky’s earnest gaze. “Steve, please tell me we can stay here tonight.”

Steve smiled down at him before looking at Peggy. He swallowed at the pointedly raised eyebrow Peggy directed toward him. Her skills in reading Steve like a book were still as sharp as ever. In return, Steve gave her a look for her not to ask, and said, “I think that’s up to Peggy. If they’ll have us.”

“Of course, we have more than enough room,” Peggy said. “Angie can help set you up with a room over at the hotel.”

“Yes, but how about dinner first?” Angie asked with a grin. “I was on my way to get some food before you two arrived.”

“Sounds great,” Steve said, but then turned to Peggy, “but I’d like to speak to you in private, if that’s alright?”

Peggy quirked an eyebrow. “This have anything to do with why you’re here?”

“Maybe.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, apprehensive, “should I –”

“No, you go on and eat. I’m sure Tony will be more than happy to talk your ear off about his work.”

Bucky pursed his lips, but Steve nudged him with his elbow and nodded to Tony.

“Yeah, sure, let’s leave the exes to their boring reunion that I definitely didn’t want to watch,” Tony cajoled, waving an arm to Bucky to get him moving. “C’mon, kid. If you want, we can even visit my shop, too. I’m almost done on my prototype of the new power source.”

Bucky left with Tony and Angie, but not without throwing Steve a puzzled look over his shoulder.

Steve sighed as he watched them walk to the old restaurant.

“We can talk at my place,” Peggy said and led Steve to one of the larger cabins at the end of the road. It had a simple living room with a threadbare couch and armchair, a small kitchen and dining set, and a bedroom in the back.

“Sit where you like,” Peggy directed, as she went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of water from a pitcher on the counter.

Steve put his backpack down on the ground and sat on the couch beside it, sitting closest to the door. When Peggy returned, she handed him a glass before sitting on the other end. Steve drained the glass and placed it on the wooden coffee table.

He turned to Peggy. She looked amused. “Thirsty, are we?” she teased.

Steve shrugged a bit. “Just a little.”

“So, tell me, does whatever you need to talk to me about have to do with James?”

Steve nodded. “I need a favor.”

“Go on.”

“I need you to take James to SHIELD.”

Peggy looked surprised. “Why?”

Steve looked Peggy dead in the eyes and said, “James is immune.”

Peggy didn’t respond for a few seconds, but once she processed Steve’s words, she scoffed. “That’s impossible. We tried everything for years. Even Bruce started calling it hopeless before he disappeared.”

“Peggy,” Steve implored, his voice deepening. “He was bit. I’ve seen the wound; the virus didn’t take.” Peggy opened her mouth to give him a counter, but he rushed to continue. “I saw him walk through a cloud of spores like it was nothing. It’s the real deal.”

She heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, so he’s immune and you were taking him to SHIELD. For a cure?”

“Yes, but we couldn’t go back into Boston because SHIELD just hit it, and we didn’t know where Fury was, so Clint suggested finding Tony. Because if anyone was going to be working on a cure, it’d be Tony, right?”

“Right.”

“So, imagine my surprise to find you both here and not with SHIELD.”

Peggy sighed and shifted on the couch to bring her leg up and face Steve. “After you left, what you said got me thinking about how things at SHIELD had changed so much since we started. I tried to fix it, but practically all of them were resistant. So, I left. About two years ago. Took Angie and some others with me.”

“You did well here. Running a place like this suits you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “So, why do you need me to take him to SHIELD? You seem to have done alright so far.”

“Well, I don’t know where they are, for one.”

“And you think _I_ do?”

“Of course, you do. And two, you know I want nothing to do with SHIELD, anymore.”

“Likewise.”

Steve scoffed. “SHIELD was _your_ idea. Finding a cure was _your_ idea.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t readily agree to them,” she snapped.

Steve sighed and ran his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I just…I need you to do this for me, please.”

“Steve,” she replied, her voice softening. “You know I can’t. These people rely on me. I can’t just up and leave them for months. And you know how dangerous it is out there, I can’t leave Angie like that.”

“Then she can go with you.”

“She came here because she didn’t want to fight anymore. She will if she has to, but I’m not signing her up for something that has nothing to do with her, or me, for that matter.”

Steve stewed in silence, trying to find the words to convince her to take Bucky off his hands.

“Is it because you have feelings for him?” she asked delicately.

He continued to sit there quietly. If he answered her, he’d have to say aloud what he’d been holding in for a while. It would make it real.

He closed his eyes. “Yes…and no.”

“It’s alright to be afraid of loving him, darling.”

“That’s not it.” He shook his head, and his hair fell into his face. “I mean, yeah, he’s a lot younger than me, but ever since we left Boston, every decision I seem to make ends up being the wrong one. It got Clint bit. And another two people we met on the way died because of me, too.” He looked at her. “I can’t be the reason he dies. Just like…” His jaw clenched and he put a hand over his mouth, as if he couldn’t even speak the words into existence.

Peggy’s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward to grab his forearm tightly and give it a shake. “How many times have we gone over this? Sarah’s death was _not_ your fault.”

Steve huffed. He never believed it. Her death hung heavily over him like a dark cloud and it seeped into his nightmares.

When Steve didn’t respond, Peggy said, “I’m sorry about Clint.”

“Yeah, me too. And Riley’s gone as well,” he said.

“Shit.”

He hung his head with a sad chuckle. “That one wasn’t my fault, but who knows, maybe some decision I made a long time ago caused that death, too.”

“You’re not responsible for their deaths.”

“How would you know? You weren’t even there.”

“Because I know you, Steve. You’d sacrifice yourself a hundred times over rather than see any of your friends hurt.”

Steve swallowed thickly. “Doesn’t matter now.” He then looked her in the eyes. “Will you do this for me? Please? I’ll do anything you want, but I can’t take him any further.”

Peggy pressed her lips together. “Are you sure that’s what you really want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s what’s best for him.”

She was quiet for a while. Then, she sighed heavily. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it, but you’ll need to stay here while I’m gone. Angie will be in charge, but it’ll make me feel better if she had someone experienced to lean on.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he agreed, feeling relieved.

“Good. Now, tell me about Boston.”

They chatted for a while and shared stories about things they missed during the last five years. Peggy was in the middle of telling a story about clearing an old police station when Angie strolled in with Bucky in tow.

Angie greeted them and placed a plate of food down in front of Peggy. Bucky did the same for Steve, but much less enthusiastically. Steve eyed him, noticing that he looked bit more withdrawn than usual, and maybe even a little upset.

Guilt crept up Steve’s spine. He was leaving Bucky and he didn’t even know it. He knew it was going to hurt him when he found out though, but he’d get over it, eventually. It was for the best.

“Actually, darling,” Peggy said, exchanging a glance with Steve, “can we talk for a minute, please?”

Angie glanced to Steve as well before nodding and saying, “Yeah, sure.” They went into the bedroom and shut the door.

Steve dug into the plate of food, stabbing a potato rather viciously and nervously.

Bucky went to sit in the armchair and stared at the closed bedroom door. “That about me?” he asked.

Steve glanced at him and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

Bucky’s lips thinned in response and he looked away.

It wasn’t long before the shouting started.

“Tell him to find someone else!” Angie shouted.

Peggy’s response was muffled, but Angie wasn’t having it. “Do you know how many people we lose out there every week?! I can’t believe you’d fuck off out of here – from where you’re _needed_ – to God knows where, for something your ex is too chicken-shit to do himself!”

Steve could feel Bucky’s eyes boring into him, so he kept his head down and continued to methodically eat.

“Did Peggy tell you where SHIELD is?” Bucky asked as the shouting died down.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

Bucky snorted. “Sure,” he said sarcastically. Steve heard him stand and he glanced up to see Bucky shake his head and walk towards the door. “I’ll wait outside.”

Not thirty seconds later, Angie was storming out of the bedroom and crowding into Steve’s space, forcing him to look up. The kindness from earlier was gone and was replaced by pure fury.

“If _anything_ happens to Peggy out there, I’ll kill you myself. Got that?”

She didn’t wait for a response and whirled around to head for the door. Peggy called out for her, but Angie ignored her and left.

“Well,” Peggy said, sighing and sitting back down on the couch. “That could have gone worse.” Steve merely raised a brow. “She could have shot you instead.”

Steve stared and imagined the scenario in his head before frowning and shrugging. “Wouldn’t blame her if she did. I know I’m asking a lot of you Pegs, and I appreciate it.”

“I know you wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t desperate. I know you have your pride.” She smiled wanly.

Peggy’s radio burst to life with unintelligible words. She frowned and unclipped it from her waist.

“Bobby, repeat.”

“ _You know that kid that just came in? Well, he stole a horse and it looks like he threatened Dave with a gun to let him out_.”

“Shit,” Steve hissed. He abandoned his meal and was out the door before he even got his backpack on.

Peggy was behind him, requesting two other horses to be saddled.

“He do this often?” Peggy asked, when they got to the barn and waited for the horses to be ready.

“No,” Steve grunted as he dug his flashlight out from his bag. “He’s pretty good about staying put.”

“He didn’t know that you planned to hand him off, did he?”

Steve’s silence said it all. The knowledge that he was doing what he should be doing warred with the guilt that he shouldn’t be leaving him with Peggy. Bucky knew that the line ended with SHIELD, but Peggy wasn’t SHIELD. Steve essentially tugged the rug out from under him without warning.

It was only about five minutes after Bucky left that two other horses were ready to go. They saddled up and rode west along the road they came in on, the same direction the lookout said he went.

It was dark out now with only a half moon in the sky, so it was going to be hell trying to track him. Steve kept the light out in front of them, looking for signs.

“Where would he go?” Peggy asked.

Steve took a moment to think. Nothing here meant anything to Bucky. Nothing close anyway. “I don’t know, maybe the hot springs? We went on the upper loop earlier.”

“Good place to start as any.”

Steve fought sinking into what ifs, but was largely unsuccessful. Bucky was all alone out here. What if Bucky ran into HYDRA? What if he ran into bandits? Infected? Bears? The thoughts stressed him out, but he couldn’t seem to think about anything else.

Peggy’s knowledge of the area was a great aid in their search. She pulled them off the main road toward any abandoned buildings or cars, places where Bucky could bunker down for the night.

Almost ten minutes after they left, Peggy led them down a side road. Over the small hill, Steve was able to see a large cluster of cabins, buildings, and cars. They slowed as the horses trotted through, cautious.

Most promising though, was the horse tied up to the post outside of one of the cabins in the middle. Down the road from it, Steve pulled to a stop at the sight of it, relief sweeping through him.

“Here,” Peggy said, holding out her hand for the reins. “I’ll watch the horses while you go take care of that.”

“Thanks,” Steve replied, and handed over the reins before climbing down.

He took a deep breath as he walked over to the cabin the other horse was in front of. There was no telling what Bucky could throw at him when he was in a mood.

The door was open a crack.

“Bucky?” he called through the door. When there was no reply after a few seconds, he edged the door open slowly.

The cabin was sparsely furnished and full of dust and cobwebs. Bucky sat on the bed, against the headboard, flipping through a book of some kind with his flashlight.

Steve shut the door. “What’re you doing, Buck?”

“What does it look like?” he snarked.

Steve sighed, knowing he was in for some attitude. “It’s not real smart to run off in the dark by yourself and put yourself at risk. And it’s not nice to steal someone’s horse and threaten to shoot people who haven’t done anything to you.”

Bucky snorted and finally looked up, eyebrows raised. “Really? That’s what you want to talk about?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“When you planned to tell me that you were leaving me! The morning of? The second we’re supposed to leave?”

“Bucky, please –”

“Please, _what_?” Bucky chuckled humorlessly and tossed the book aside. “You know. I thought I knew you. At least a little bit. But then we get here and it turns out that not only do you have an ex-wife – who was the founder of SHIELD, by the way, no big deal – but you also had a daughter? Do you think I wouldn’t like to know something like that? I’ve told you practically _everything_ about myself, but trying to get anything from you is like pulling teeth. It doesn’t feel good to know that I’m here laying my guts out and all you’ve been giving me are scraps.”

Steve clenched his jaw and ducked his head a bit. Remorse trickled through him. He had been purposefully keeping Bucky at arm’s length. He sighed and said, “I know I’m not the most open person –”

“Fuck that!” Bucky scoffed and stood up. “I’m sorry, but that’s complete bullshit. I’ve seen you with your friends. I know you’re capable of letting people in. You’re just not letting _me_ in.”

Steve never wanted to run away more in his life. He felt ashamed to know that he’s been more cowardly in the last few days than he’s ever been before. All over some stupid child.

“Listen, kid,” he said, growing irritated.

“Not a kid,” Bucky scolded, cutting Steve off. “I know twenty’s not a lot, but I’m not a _child_ , Steve. Haven’t been one since I blew a man’s brains out when I was eleven. So, what’s the issue here?”

Steve felt everything bubble over inside himself. Like Bucky was pressing all right buttons to make him squirm. “I trust Peggy to get you wherever you need to go, because I’m just going to get you killed.”

Bucky scoffed again. “That’s crazy! Why would you even think that?”

“We’ve had too many close calls to count. Look how many people have died along the way.”

“I’m not Clint or Pietro. Or even Wanda. I can’t get sick, and I’ve been holding my own out there. We’ve been doing just fine together!”

“Well, now you’ll do better with Peggy!”

Steve took a deep breath. He ran his hands over his face and tried to reign in his frustration.

“I’m not her,” Bucky said quietly and Steve stilled. “I’m not Sarah.”

“Don’t,” Steve snapped. Hearing her name from Bucky’s lips was like a knife to the gut. Sharp and stinging.

“ _She_ was a child. She was young and defenseless. But _I’m_ not. I’m sorry she’s gone, but don’t think you’re responsible for me the way you were for her. I don’t _need_ you in my life but…but I _want_ you there. Do you understand?”

Bucky was suddenly closer than Steve expected. A mere arm’s length away and getting closer. Jaw tight, cheeks and nose rosy from the cold. Steve could only stare, speechless.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved or cared about has left me. If you want to be one of those people, then fine. I’ll add you to the list and move on. I’ll live, like I always have. But if you think that foisting me off onto someone else is what’s best, then you’re an idiot because you…” Bucky gripped the front of Steve’s shirt as he paused. “You make me feel _safe_. You make me _happy_. And I’d rather go out like that than feeling scared and alone. You hear me?”

Steve was mesmerized. By the defiance in Bucky’s posture, the surety in his voice, and the vulnerability in his gaze.

A part of Steve – a larger part – had never truly wanted to leave Bucky. He’d listened to his head and not his heart. He’d thought leaving would be for the best, to spare himself the heartache and to give Bucky a chance to survive with someone who wouldn’t put his life at risk.

But he couldn’t leave Bucky now, could he? He was in too deep. He’d shoved his head in the sand in hopes of not noticing how deep he was, but Bucky had pulled him right out to face what he’d been hiding from.

Steve let his feelings for Bucky wash over him.

As if he were a puppet on a string, Steve found his hand reaching up on its own accord to brush back the locks of hair that fell across Bucky’s brow. He idly wondered if he would want to get it cut as his fingers mindlessly trailed down the side of his face. Feeling how the smooth skin under his fingertips turned slightly rough under the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow as he trailed them along the strong jaw. His hand stopped at Bucky’s chin, and his thumb found its way into the little dimple there. There was a flash of tongue as Bucky licked his lips, and Steve finally noticed how heavy Bucky was breathing, how he froze in place, seemingly held up by the tight grip he had on Steve. Steve’s other hand found its way to Bucky’s waist and pulled him in a little closer to steady him.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, his eyes zeroed in on the shininess of Bucky’s lips. “I hear ya.” He was then tilting Bucky’s head up and drifting closer, until his lips were hovering just over Bucky’s and he could feel the shaky exhales of his breath on his face. Bucky must’ve gotten impatient though, because he was then swiftly going up onto his toes, pressing his lips firmly to Steve’s.

It may not have been a perfect kiss, a little dry, a little off center, but as his eyelids slipped close, Steve ascended into heaven. It made his heart race and his body shudder. His grip on Bucky’s waist grew tighter as his other hand dragged its way to the side of Bucky’s face to tilt his head to where he wanted it to go. The kiss was slow as molasses, but firm and sure as anything. Steve was tilting his head this way and that, trying to find every possible way that his lips could fit against Bucky’s. And it felt like Bucky was clutching onto his chest for dear life.

The kiss slowed to a series of pecks, until all they were doing were holding each other, foreheads pressed together, and breathing each other’s air.

Bucky was suddenly laughing under his breath. He muttered, “I should yell at you more often.”

“Please don’t,” Steve groaned.

Bucky’s responding grin was blinding and Steve was helpless to do anything but swoop down to capture his lips again, only to get more teeth than anything. But Bucky got with the program quickly, humming into the kiss.

Steve regretfully pulled back, his hands on Bucky’s waist. “C’mon, let’s head back. Peggy’s waitin’ on us.”

A shrill neigh pierced the night, followed by another. After hearing Peggy’s shouting to try to calm the horses down, Steve darted outside, ready for anything. He looked around as he ran toward the horses, but didn’t see what caused the horses to spook.

“Some opossums darted out in front of the horses,” Peggy explained without prompting when Steve got to her. She had managed to stay on her horse and was soothing it. Steve followed her lead and stroked his horse’s neck, making shushing noises.

“Steve!” Bucky called from where he was untying his horse. “We’ve got incoming!”

Looking past Bucky, he could barely spot the shadowy movements of the infected.

Cursing, he took back the reins from Peggy and climbed up onto the horse. “Peggy, go. We’ll be right behind you,” Steve said before turning back to look for Bucky who was finally up on his horse and riding Steve’s way.

Steve could finally see the handful of runners clearly, when Bucky cantered past him. He kicked his heels against his horse and took off after the other two, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to make sure the runners weren’t catching up. They rode fast to the settlement, following Peggy’s lead, without another word.

The gates opened for them upon their arrival and they passed off the horses to the stable hands as soon as they made it inside.

Bucky approached Peggy wringing his hands. “Sorry about stealing a horse and, uh, threatening your friend,” he apologized.

Peggy smiled. “No harm done. Just, please, don’t make a habit of it,” she said. “Now, I hope Steve told you, but I’m going to –”

“Actually,” Steve interrupted. “I’m going to take him. If you could help point us in the right direction.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He looked to Bucky and saw his dimpled smile. Any lingering doubt that this was the right choice melted away.

“Well, in that case, how about I show you where you’re staying for the night? I think we can all use a good rest after tonight.”

Peggy then led them past the restaurant to the next large building, which was an old hotel. Along the way, she spoke about how she came across this little town and got the idea to turn it onto a haven for their group. It took about a week to comb through the buildings and clear out the infected and another three months to get the thick walls up. Steve smiled to himself, Peggy always had great ideas, but to see this one executed so well made him ecstatic.

She went behind the reception desk and procured a set of keys before taking them to a room on the first floor a little bit more than halfway down the hallway.

“No indoor plumbing yet, unfortunately,” Peggy explained as she let them into the room and flipped on the light. It was a room with two beds, a large dresser, old television, and a small armchair. “If you want to leave your stuff, I can show you the outhouses and water tank.” As Bucky tossed his backpack onto the closest bed, Steve dropped his onto the other one and took off his chest holster.

She handed Steve the keys before they left and showed them a set of outhouses out behind the hotel before taking them to behind the restaurant where there was a large water tank and a stack of buckets.

“We only ask you to limit yourself to two buckets a day,” she said. “Then bring back any buckets you’re not using. Any questions?” When they shook their heads, she grinned. “Great, I think this is where I leave you then. Have a good night, boys.”

Steve and Bucky bid her goodnight and lingered by the water tank. Steve took a bucket and then suggested they use the outhouses.

Back in the hotel, Bucky followed Steve’s lead as he dipped one of the small glasses in the bathroom into the bucket and drank deeply. Once he was done, he got ready for bed. He moved his belongings to the armchair and stripped to his underwear. After he placed a gun and knife on the nightstand, he turned on the bedside lamp. He shook out the sheets, finding them a little dusty, and then crawled in.

It wasn’t until he settled on his back and looked over to tell Bucky to turn off the main light that he noticed Bucky watching him. He was standing by the other bed, down to this underwear, too, as his hands fiddled with his backpack. Steve took in the creamy skin and lithe muscles, rarely letting himself enjoy the sight before now, and felt his mouth water.

“Turn off the light,” Steve told him, and then turned down the sheets on the other side of the bed.

Bucky colored and Steve had to hold back a laugh as Bucky rushed to turn off the light and climb into bed beside him. There was only a beat of hesitation on Bucky’s part when Steve held out his arm in invitation before Bucky cuddled up to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and could feel Bucky’s body sink into him as time passed by.

“Your hair’s getting long,” Steve murmured.

Bucky grunted. “You gonna cut it for me?”

“Not if you want to keep your ears. Should see if Peggy can do it. She used to do mine.”

Bucky snorted as he shifted so that his chin was propped on Steve’s chest. Steve moved his hand to slowly caress Bucky’s spine. “I’m not going to ask Peggy, the founder of SHIELD and the leader of this whole _camp_ , to cut my hair.”

“Fine, but if we end up having to shave your head, you can’t blame me. I warned you.”

Bucky squinted while he tilted his head and hummed. “No, I think I’ll still blame you.” Then Bucky was grinning and smothering his laughter and Steve couldn’t help but join along.

They settled down and couldn’t seem to stop staring at each other. Steve was happy in a way he hadn’t been in for a very long time. He felt content all the way down to the tips of his toes.

Bucky’s hand reached up to carefully stroke his beard with the back of his fingers and Steve’s lips quirked involuntarily at the feeling. Steve gently grabbed Bucky’s hand and exposed his palm to place a firm kiss to the center of it. He then pressed the hand to his cheek and tilted his head into it. Bucky’s thumb stroked his cheek slowly as his own did the same to the back of his wrist.

It was quiet for a few moments as they luxuriated in each other’s company. But then Bucky’s thumb stopped moving and he was looking intently at Steve.

“Will you tell me about her?” Bucky asked softly. “You don’t have to now, if you don’t want, but I’d like to know one day.”

Steve didn’t have to guess to know who he was talking about. His chest twisted painfully when he thought about Sarah and holding her small body to his chest. Then he remembered her cheesy grin, the one that took up half her face, and the way she loved the color orange so much it looked like it was perpetually Halloween in her room.

“Her favorite color was orange,” he found himself admitting after that line of thought and smiled slightly to himself. “Loved pumpkins so much that she insisted we have eight outside our house for Halloween. And the only vegetables we could only get her to eat were carrots and butternut squash.”

Bucky was grinning, his thumb brushing his cheek again, and it compelled Steve to tell him more.

“She wasn’t planned. Pegs and I were high school sweethearts and she found out she was pregnant during my first deployment. I thankfully made it back just in time for her to be born though. She looked like a potato, but I loved her more than anything.” Steve laughed at the memory of holding her for the first time and thinking that she looked like a little lumpy, red thing, but already so in love with her. “She had blonde hair like me, but she looked like a mini-Peggy. Her hair probably would’ve turned brown when she got older, though.

“She was the sweetest thing; grumpy as hell when she was tired, but always happy otherwise. She helped Peggy choose this as my birthday present that year.” He held up his wrist that held the dirty American flag bracelet. “It’s a paracord bracelet. If you unravel it, you’ve got a cord for shelter and traps or whatever.

“Anyway, she was…the best thing that ever happened to me. I only had one more deployment to go through before I could retire from the army and spend more time with her when this all happened.” He stopped talking then and frowned.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Bucky reminded him.

Steve smiled grimly. “It’s okay.” He squeezed Bucky’s wrist and took a deep breath. “We were up at Peggy’s parents place in Montauk. It’s a town on the end of Long Island, New York. She was almost six and it was our last trip before she started kindergarten. We were all out eating dinner, when it started to get overrun. Peggy was holding on to Sarah, but they got knocked over and someone stepped on Sarah’s leg so hard it almost broke her ankle, so I had to carry her.”

He had to stop as he remembered the weight of her in his arms and the way she was crying through the pain and confusion. He had cradled her close to his chest as she hung onto his neck. She asked him every few minutes what was happening, but Steve couldn’t say anything other than ‘I don’t know, honey.’

“We ran for the docks on the other side of town. Peggy’s parents had a small boat there. They were caught up with some runners and told me to go ahead with Sarah. I was almost at the docks when I ran into a soldier. The National Guard had been deployed, but they had to spread themselves thin to cover more ground. He was green. I could tell because his hands were shaking so bad. Sarah and I had blood all over ourselves, so he held us up and called it in. I knew what they said the moment he asked them to repeat the order. They told him to kill us. They didn’t care if one of them was a child. I should’ve run, but I was an idiot and thought I could reason with him. He fired at us, and I turned away at the last second, trying to protect her, but…”

He didn’t know he was crying until he felt Bucky wiping his cheeks. He closed his eyes and sniffled. “She took a bullet to the side.” His eyes opened back up. His vision was blurry, but he could still see Bucky’s stricken expression.

“There was just so much blood,” he whispered. Her blood coated his hands, thick and sticky. It took months before his hands felt remotely clean.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” Bucky consoled, his hand still on Steve’s face, wiping away tears and cupping his cheek. “That shouldn’t’ve happened. Not to anyone.”

Steve’s smile was bitter. “Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

Bucky laid back down in the same position he was in earlier and Steve took a shuddery breath before burying his nose in Bucky’s hair.

“Thank you for telling me,” Bucky said, lightly stroking Steve’s side.

Steve didn’t respond, couldn’t with how thick his tongue felt in his mouth, so he placed a fond kiss on Bucky’s head with closed eyes, instead.

He stayed awake for hours before falling into a dreamless sleep.


	6. Boulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the added all the tags including the newly added ones ❤️

Residents of the town called it Fort Mammoth, and even though it had been up and running for less than a year, the place ran like a well-oiled machine. Everyone had a job and contributed to some part of the daily life there, from patrolling, maintaining the greenhouse, or gathering water and food every day. It made Bucky, for a moment, wish they could stay, but they already stayed a fortnight, and he knew they needed to move on.

During that time, they’d helped wherever needed helping and retreated to the hotel each night, sleeping in the same bed without discussion. At some point during the evening, their lips would seal together for minutes, and, if Bucky could help it, hours on end. A few times their lazy make outs turned hot and heavy, making Bucky’s blood sing. He always tried to take it a step further, but whenever he climbed into Steve’s lap and ground his hips, Steve would still him. Bucky would whine and grumble about wanting to do it in a real bed while they could, but Steve was determined to take things slow. Bucky understood, and getting to lay entwined with Steve and kiss him to his heart’s content was nowhere near the realm of settling, but he wanted to feel Steve skin to skin, from head to toe, more than anything.

Peggy gave Steve a knowing look when she learned of their relationship, but Tony really took the mickey out of Steve when he found out. Steve chose to ignore the gambit of ‘robbing the cradle’ jokes whereas Bucky gave him a dead stare, unamused and unwilling to let the age difference to be a point of contention between them. Thankfully, his teasing was cut off by the arrival of his partner, Pepper, who shocked Steve by greeting them with a small baby bump. Bucky admired any woman who was brave enough to birth a baby during this time – and have Tony be the father of such child.

Bucky finally got a peek at what Tony was making in his shop, though, something he called an arc reactor. It was certainly the most advanced technology he’d seen before and he didn’t exactly understand the nuances of how it sustained itself, but he got the general idea after a lengthy explanation.

Peggy had been a more than gracious host. She and Angie spent most dinners with them, discussing the Fort and catching up, always spending time with them if she could. One afternoon, when Steve was pulled into water pick up duty, Peggy approached Bucky with a four by six photo, saying that she knew Steve would refuse to take it. It was a Christmas photo of Steve, Peggy, and Sarah. He was stunned by Steve; his youth, his crooked smile, his clean-shaven face. This was a Steve from another life, a Steve he could only see glimpses of. And little Sarah was just as Steve described, blonde, cute as a button, and definitely taking after Peggy. After he slipped the photo into his book to reside along the ones of his family, they spent the afternoon talking about Sarah and their lives before.

When Steve returned, with a wide grin and soft eyes only set on Bucky (and Bucky _didn’t_ turn fire engine red due to the pure adoration on his face in front of his ex, thanks), Steve even got Peggy to cut his hair. She trimmed it enough to get it back to where it was when they left Boston and Bucky couldn’t help but grin when Steve continuously ran his fingers through his freshly cut hair.

The day before their departure, and after consulting with a few others at the Fort, Peggy told them she believed where the SHIELD lab may be at the University of Colorado, Boulder. “The lab is in one of the science buildings. It’s called Elegy or Kelly, or something like that,” she had said over their last dinner together. Then, despite Steve’s objections, after breakfast the next morning, she presented them with a brown horse named Chester who was laden with enough food and water to last them at least two weeks.

They left that morning with a round of ‘good luck’s from their friends, or new friends in Bucky’s case, and an unspoken promise to return.

Travelling with a horse was both a luxury and a burden. Bucky liked that he could sit behind Steve and essentially have an excuse to hold on to him for hours. They also saved up energy and could travel further, even during the small flurries of snow, but it was also a large stomach to fill with food and water. Their stops were frequent to make sure Chester got his fill of grass and drinks from whatever water source they found. Bucky took the opportunity, during these stops, to practice with the bow or knives, and sometimes even spar with Steve if he wasn’t doing anything. He relished learning more hand-to-hand combat from someone who was clearly an expert, and took pleasure in getting to feel Steve up occasionally. If it often ended with them making out instead fighting, neither of them were complaining.

Bucky enjoyed having Chester around, he’d talk conspiratorially to him behind Steve’s back when he was being unreasonable (Bucky could survive by himself in the wild for thirty minutes while Steve went out and set traps, thanks), which earned him eye rolls and light swats to the ass that left him practically giggling.

The best part of this leg of the journey was that Bucky got to cuddle up to Steve under the guise of warmth all he wanted during the night. Not that he thought Steve would object, he seemed more than happy to spoon up behind Bucky whenever possible, but it felt like a gift every time it happened.

A small part of him wished the SHIELD lab wasn’t just the next state over. While Steve promised to not leave him, he didn’t really know SHIELD or how they worked internally, he just hoped they’d let Steve stick around. Although, knowing Steve’s issue with SHIELD, Bucky also didn’t want to force him into a position he didn’t want to be in. He reckoned they’d figure something out once they got there.

It was chilly the day they entered Boulder just over a month later, from the west. Bucky’s chin was dipped into the jacket of his collar and he got as close to Steve as possible with the saddle in the way. Steve’s backpack was relegated to hanging off the side of Chester now that most of the food and water were gone.

Steve followed the route he set the night before and Bucky relaxed into the gentle rocking of the horse as they cut through residential streets. The outskirts started out almost covered in green, to the point where Bucky can almost barely make out the houses though the trees and the road through the overgrown grass and tree roots. Then the road widened, and the trees became sparser, but there still didn’t seem to be an end to the houses in sight.

Almost thirty minutes later, they reached a major intersection so open that Bucky felt completely exposed.

Steve paused and nodded to the corner ahead of them on their right. All Bucky saw were more trees. “That’s the campus.”

Bucky was suddenly filled with butterflies. They were one step closer to getting to SHIELD.

When they hadn’t moved for a few moments, Bucky squeezed Steve’s waist and said with a nervous chuckle, “We gonna sit here all day?”

Steve merely huffed and got them moving again.

The first building that appeared among the copse of trees was the Alumni Center.

“Maybe they’ll have a map,” Steve said as he directed Chester toward it. “The campus looked pretty big on the regular map. We might be looking all day if we’re just left wandering.”

The Alumni Center wasn’t a large building; more than anything, it resembled more a large house that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be Colonial or Craftsman.

Chester was left outside as they went inside the unlocked front door. The place looked untouched by the outbreak, which made sense because there probably weren’t many useful things inside of an alumni center. The reception area was large; there were university driven and inspirational posters on the walls and a set of soft looking furniture.

Bucky stood by the door and prepped his bow and arrow, much more comfortable using it now that he’s had months of practice with it. He was definitely nowhere near as good as Clint was with it, but he could hit moving targets now.

Steve went to one of the glass picture frames on the walls and smashed it with the butt of his gun. They stood and waited for infected or people to spill out of the dark hallways, but there was only silence. Bucky loosened up on his grip, but kept watch as Steve went searching through the desk.

“Got it!” Steve announced a minute later, holding up a small spiral bound planner of some kind.

They went back outside for more light and poured over the small map at the back of the book together, looking for anything that resembled the names Elegy or Kelly. Bucky had to squint at the small print, but finally spotted something that might fit the bill.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the name Ekeley Sciences on the list of building names. “That seems close enough, yeah?”

Steve nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, C5.” He muttered the grid coordinates to himself some more as he tracked down the correct square on the map.

“Good,” Steve said with relief as he pointed to square C5. “We’re not that far, and it’s not in the middle of campus.” With them being in A3, C5 was not far at all. Bucky could see a few buildings and a large, green rectangle between the Alumni Center and the Ekeley building.

They got back on the horse and slowly made their way through campus. It was lush in greenery with small ponds, and red and white stone buildings. Bucky could imagine it would’ve been gorgeous back before everything. For a second, he fantasized himself being a college student; he was the right age for it, walking through a campus with a backpack full of books instead of survival gear. It made him long for his family and a different world, but then Steve brushed his hand over Bucky’s from where it lay on his waist and he was brought back to the present. The real world. And he was reminded that he would’ve never met Steve in the old one. He shouldn’t dwell on things that will never happen when he has something brilliant right here in front of him.

The first building they passed had the words ‘CUT OFF ONE HEAD, TWO MORE WILL TAKE ITS PLACE’ spray-painted to the side of it. At the sound of the horse clopping by, a clicker appeared in a window, and tried to smash their way through it. Probably would have if not for the desk in front of it.

The second building they passed also had something odd on it. A spray-painted SHIELD symbol had been superimposed by a red HYDRA symbol.

Bucky pointed these things out to Steve who merely hummed and continued as if it was nothing, but Bucky could see how tight Steve’s shoulders were. Unease crept into his stomach.

When they came out on the other side of the building, there was a rustling in the bushes at the bottom of one of the trees they were passing by. Bucky was reflexively drawing his gun when a pair of monkeys popped out with a screech and ran off before Bucky could comprehend their presence.

“Were those… _monkeys_?” Bucky asked, worried that he was seeing things.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Steve replied, perplexed as Bucky was.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a real monkey before.”

“No?” Steve questioned, clicking his heels to move Chester along. They were taking one of the cement pathways through the green rectangle Bucky spotted on the map earlier, but instead of a sprawling lawn, there were a series of empty medical tents filled with spilled over crates and destroyed cots.

“Not that I remember at least, we were planning to go to the zoo for Becca’s seventh birthday. She wanted to see the tigers.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout you? What did you wanna see?”

“The elephants, I think.”

Steve did mostly a good job trying to distract Bucky from the fact that something was clearly wrong. Steve, as much as he tried to be a conversationalist, usually left it up to Bucky to keep the conversation going.

“Why haven’t we seen anybody from SHIELD?” Bucky finally asked instead of answering whatever question Steve had.

Steve sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

The campus was quiet except for the soft rustling of the trees and the scattering of leaves. It would ordinarily soothe Bucky, but this time, the lack of noise made him nervous. The next building they came upon had a plaque on the wall beside a door, naming it the Ekeley Building. There wasn’t movement inside from what he could tell.

“Maybe Peggy’s intel was wrong?” Bucky asked, hesitantly.

Steve shook his head. “Peggy’s rarely wrong about these things.” He patted Bucky’s leg. “Let’s take a look inside.”

They tied up Chester to a nearby railing and went inside.

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what he expected when they went inside, but, the signs of life were both hopeful and worrisome.

“Hello?” Bucky called out down the semi-lit hallways. Steve shushed him, but when there were no responding noises, Bucky gave him a flat look. “Whether I yell ‘hello’ or you smash something against the wall, it doesn’t make much of a difference if infected or people are going to come running anyway.”

“Smartass,” Steve chided, but the smirk he wore made Bucky feel a bit smug, so he grinned back and pumped his eyebrows.

There were unlit flood lamps in the corners of the hallway that mostly wrapped round the whole building. Some boxes and containers were stacked in the hallways, classrooms, offices, and labs. The classrooms were mostly untouched, but the various labs were definitely in use by someone, if not SHIELD.

A half-wiped chalkboard listed some chemicals Bucky could barely pronounce, but ‘Cordy-’ was half written at the top. The boxes and containers were mostly filled with lab equipment and supplies. Nothing useful.

He wandered over to Steve, who had been browsing through a box full of papers only to stop and pull out an x-ray. Looking over his shoulder, Bucky saw the clear fungal grow over the skull of a clicker.

“Anything useful?” Bucky asked.

“No, just a bunch of research on the infection rate of Cordyceps,” Steve sighed. He put away the scan and closed the box. “Whatever happened, looks like they left in a hurry. SHIELD’s usually pretty good about not leaving anything behind. So, I’m not sure if they’d leave something saying where they’re going, but I guess –”

Glass shattered upstairs. They both paused and looked up at the ceiling, waiting for any more noise.

A few moments later, when there was nothing, Bucky said, “I guess that ‘hello’ didn’t do shit.”

“Alright, c’mon,” Steve said, un-holstering his gun from his chest with a sigh. “I was gonna suggest we try upstairs anyway.”

Bucky fell into step behind him, grabbing his gun in his right hand and knife in his left. “Here Steve goes,” Bucky joked, “running headfirst into danger again.”

“You could stay behind,” Steve tossed over his shoulder as he led them to the staircase at the end of the hall.

Bucky snorted. “And let you have all the fun? Think again.”

Bucky was hopeful that it was a lingering SHIELD member, but tried to keep his expectations low.

They made their way upstairs on light feet and Steve slowly looked over the hallway when it came into view. Nothing was amiss. This floor was in exactly the same state as the one below. Steve didn’t let up though, so Bucky fell in line behind him as they skirted the wall, like he had many times before. Steve then Bucky checked each room as they made their way down.

Steve raised a hand and Bucky halted. Bucky only had to wait a few seconds before he heard light shuffling. Steve pointed toward the door on the right and Bucky nodded, even though he couldn’t see.

Not a moment later, Steve burst through the mostly closed door. Bucky, hot on his heels, entered just in time to see two monkeys screech at them and run out the broken window.

Bucky sighed and holstered his weapons. “What are the odds they turned themselves into monkeys?” Bucky asked sardonically, pointing to empty cages along the walls.

“Low, probably,” Steve replied. “C’mon, let’s see if there’s anything else of use.”

They sifted through the few boxes there and Bucky kept himself from groaning at all the useless garbage left behind. The next lab across the way was the same, and the two after that. As they went from room to room, Bucky felt his minuscule hopes disappear.

Bucky followed Steve to the next closed door. Steve opened it and stepped inside, Bucky bumped into him when he stopped suddenly though.

Bucky tilted to the side to see around Steve. “Well, shit,” he said as he took in the scene. “That’s not a great sign.”

There was a skeleton with a shattered skull sitting in the professor’s chair, and a large splatter of blood on the wall behind it. Clearly, the man had taken his own life.

Steve approached the skeleton and Bucky, with no desire to look at more dead people, went to the few boxes on the desk next to the window. He halfheartedly searched through one, not expecting much. It was much like the ones downstairs, a bunch of scribbles and only a handful of words that made sense.

The crackling of static and a winding noise shocked Bucky momentarily, and he whipped around to see Steve holding something small and metallic in his hand. The noise stopped and an unknown voice started filtering through instead.

“– gone now. They told me to kill the subjects, but I –” The man sighed deeply as monkeys oohed in the background. “Fuck that. You guys sacrificed a lot for the cause. More than most I’d say. You deserve to run free, don’t you fellas?” There’s more clanging and then the monkeys screeching as they run away. “Go on, get – ah, fuck! Shit!” The man’s breaths were heavy and shaky. “Fuck, one of the assholes bit me…oh my god, this isn’t happening.”

A break in the recording allowed Bucky to say, “Well, good thing they didn’t attack us. You recognize the voice?” Steve shook his head.

The man’s voice came through the recorder again. “I can now confirm that the monkeys were silent carriers of the fungus. So, if any SHIELD agent is listening to this, let Brent know his hypothesis was correct. Dick’ll be happy to hear that…All this time sitting around has given me time to think though. When we started out –” Steve fast forwarded the tape “– didn’t know that –” Bucky sighed heavily as Steve skipped again. “– waste of time –” Another skip forward. “– looking for SHIELD, they’ve gone to Saint Mark’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. You’ll find them there, still trying to find a cure probably. Good fuckin’ luck.”

The tape stopped and Steve shut it off.

“Salt Lake City,” Bucky repeated. “That sounds familiar. Do you know where it is?”

Steve nodded as he put down the tape recorder before walking over to Bucky. “Yeah, it’s in Utah, probably less than a month away if we make good time with –” Steve trailed off, squinting to see past Bucky and out the window.

No sooner did Bucky begin to turn around did Steve shout, “Get down!” He pulled him to the ground as glass shattered above them. Looking up from his crouch, Bucky could see a bullet hole in the glass. His heart beat wildly in his chest. Fuck, he almost had his head blown off.

“Who the fuck is that?” Bucky asked.

“I dunno. Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Steve said back.

Nodding, Bucky grabbed his gun and thumbed off the safety. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves as he followed Steve to the door. Along the way, Steve picked up the tape recorder and dropped it to the floor. He stomped on it multiple times until it shattered and kicked the pieces around.

Steve leaned up against the wall and poked his head out of the doorway, looking to the closest staircase on the right. He was immediately shot at, and he quickly ducked back in with a huff. He held up two fingers. Bucky stayed against the wall, but held his gun up as Steve crouched. Steve leaned out, shot twice as bullets pierce the wall above him, and dipped back. A body thumped.

“Come on out, fuckers!” a man taunted.

Bucky snorted. Like that was really going to draw them out.

“I’ll cover you. Get behind those containers in the hallway. We’ll go down the other stairs,” Steve whispered up to Bucky who nodded immediately.

Steve pretended to duck out and drew fire, and then stood and pressed his chest to the open door. When Steve started firing down the hallway without even looking, Bucky ran out at a crouch and slid behind some containers a few feet down. The containers were tall enough to cover him, but he was afraid if Steve tried to join him, neither of them would fit.

Bucky peered to the side of the container and saw Steve leaning against the door. Steve signaled _cover me_. Bucky nodded back and raised himself up. He fired at the man who popped out from a classroom, striking him in the shoulder, and fired again for good measure, barely noticing when Steve was settled behind him. Bucky nearly ducked back down, but saw another man appear at the top of the staircase. He wasted no time taking him down, too.

“Shit,” Steve cursed. Bucky heard him shooting, but didn’t know whom he was firing at until he looked behind them. Two men had appeared at the top of the other staircase and were running for cover. Steve caught one in the throat, but the other made it to safety.

“Cover my six,” Steve said as he stood.

“Like I’d be anywhere else,” Bucky huffed.

Bucky let Steve lead the way with sure steps. He trusted him to cover his back, but he walked sideways against the wall, anyway, shooting at a man who tried to run into a lab.

The enemy just kept pouring out of the stairwells and Bucky kept firing, resorting to his next magazine when they got near the staircase. He was pleased to note that he was killing them if not seriously wounding them with almost every bullet.

Steve stumbled back into him as he killed a man trying to advance down the hallway. Steve’s body jerked again. Bucky was horrified to hear him gasp and suddenly find himself bearing almost all of Steve’s weight.

“Steve?” he asked, confused and not comprehending what was going on. He put a hand out to support Steve and looked beyond him to find a man on the ground in the doorway of a room on the left. The man clutched his shoulder and shakily raised his gun.

Bucky was faster.

“Steve?!” Bucky cried, hooking Steve’s right arm over his shoulders and hauling him toward the stairs. Bucky looked him over as they went. Steve’s face was contorted in pain and he grunted with every move. Blood pooled on his left shoulder and on his right side, near his hip. Steve’s left hand was trying to put pressure on it, but with a weak shoulder, there was only so much he could do. Bucky didn’t have time put pressure on the wounds either. “Shit, shit, shit. You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Bucky stumbled down the stairs with Steve hanging onto him like a rag doll.

“Fuck, you’re bleeding too much,” Bucky mumbled, watching the blood seep through Steve’s fingers and soak his shirt.

Bucky stopped on the platform between the levels and carefully set Steve back down on the stairs. His hands shook as he sat behind Steve and rummaged through his bag for the rope for the traps.

Steve muttered something, but Bucky was far too concentrated on his task to listen.

The rope. Where was the _fucking_ rope?!

_Bang!_

Bucky jumped. Heart in his throat, he was ready for the worst, to have Steve slump over in his arms, but the thud of a body came from the staircase around the bend. Steve did slump back more, though, but not before gasping, “Buck. I…I need…”

 _Fuck_ , he almost got them both killed. He needed to pay more attention.

“Yeah, I know, big guy, I know,” Bucky hurriedly said as his hands finally brushed against the rope. He pulled it out, along with two of his shirts, and kneeled in front of him.

Steve was fading. His eyes roved and breath stuttered. Bucky took a second to look behind Steve’s side and was happy to see that the bullet had gone through there. The shoulder, however, wasn’t as lucky, the bullet was buried in there still. He only hoped that it hadn’t ricocheted elsewhere. Bucky quickly tied one of the shirts over the wound on Steve’s shoulder, then folded up the other just enough for it to cover the wounds on his side and shoved it under Steve’s hand, which was still trying to apply pressure, to hold it there. When Bucky reached his arms around him to get the rope around his waist, Steve coughed in his ear, and when he pulled it tight over the shirt and on the wound, he wheezed.

He felt himself start to freak out. Steve had been shot! Multiple times. And there were still men out there ready to kill them. This was no time for a meltdown.

Bucky grasped Steve’s arms. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said, more to himself than Steve. “Can you walk?”

Steve took a deep breath and rasped, “Yeah, just…help me up.”

Nodding, Bucky pulled as hard as he could on Steve’s arms, using the leverage the stairs provided him. Steve stood and leaned heavily onto him before settling onto his own two feet, he kept his right hand on Bucky for balance though.

“I’ll lead us out,” Bucky said, turning around and leading them down to the next level. Halfway down, a man darted out from behind a wall and Bucky, skittish and trigger-happy now, fired at the same time as him. A bullet whistled by Bucky’s ear and hit the wall behind them, but Bucky’s aim was impeccable, hitting the guy in the eye.

Bucky barely had time to feel good about his shot. When he poked his head out to clear the hallway, he saw at least a handful of men, half-covered and waiting for them on the left. The way they entered was through them, but he remembered seeing another exit next to the staircase they were at now. He glanced over the railing and down at the continuing steps on the left side, he could make out some light down below. The choices were to either engage in a shootout, basically all on his own, or take a gamble on whether there was an exit in the basement that the other men were blind to.

Checking his magazine, he only had seven shots left. He twisted and grabbed Steve’s gun. There were five bullets in his.

Gamble it was.

“Go down the stairs,” Bucky whispered, “I’ll cover you.”

He waited for Steve to nod before darting out from the cover the far wall of the stairwell provided and pressed himself up against it. Multiples shots fired at him as he went. Looking back, he nodded to Steve, who was watching him.

Mentally cataloging where he saw the men hiding, Bucky leaned out far enough to cover Steve and fired four times down the hallway, trying to get in the general area where the men were. When he turned around, Steve was there, leaning against the railing.

Bucky quickly looped Steve’s right arm over his shoulders again and hustled them down the stairs. They would only have a couple of seconds before the men noticed that they disappeared.

Bucky’s gamble paid off. There were no men downstairs and an exit was straight ahead of them. He hurried Steve out the door, up the steps outside, and to where they left Chester.

Whinnies and snorting reached Bucky before he laid eyes on Chester. A man had him by the reins and was trying to calm him down, but Chester kept moving around, unresponsive to his efforts.

Bucky was inclined to shoot the man, but he was afraid he’d hit Chester, so he left Steve leaning against the wall and approached the man from behind with his knife. With the way the man had his arms up, there was no way to get to his neck. So, Bucky went for the belly. He wrapped an arm around the man’s chest and slid the knife in quickly – one, two, three times – and instead of pulling it straight out, dragged it across his gut.

His nose wrinkled at the heavy smell of blood in the air, and the smell of it didn’t calm down Chester any more than the man’s attempted shushing had. He was quick to grab onto the reins as the man collapsed and dragged Chester away toward Steve. Being around familiar people, along with Bucky’s coos, finally helped Chester calm down to the point where Bucky felt that he wouldn’t run off as soon as he let go of the reins.

Next, he went back over to Steve and helped him up into the saddle, shoving him up by his ass. Steve groaned as soon as he was seated and slumped forward. Bucky knocked Steve’s feet from the stirrups and rushed to climb up behind him. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him back onto his chest. As he grabbed the reins, he heard doors slamming open. Bucky kicked Chester into movement just as gunshots pierced the air.

Bucky took them through the city as fast as Chester could go. He didn’t know where they’re going. All he knew is that he had to stop somewhere soon to take care of Steve’s wounds.

Steve was fighting consciousness with every passing minute. He’d sag in Bucky’s arms then jerk in a different direction. Bucky could only continue on this way for so long.

Bucky had unintentionally gone deeper into the city. It was a risky move due to the unknown state of the city, there could be a hostile settlement there, but luck continued to be on Bucky’s side. He soon left the residential area and came across the back of a shopping center. It would likely have the supplies he’d need to leave the city.

The first store he came across was called _Joann Fabrics and Crafts_. He gently pushed Steve to lean forward and got off to push the metal gate out of the way. He led Chester up into the loading dock and closed the gate behind them. Leaving them behind, he scoped out the backroom of the store. It was a little messy, boxes and products strewn about, but it was clear of infected. He’d have to check out the rest of the store later, but for now, this place would do.

Steve, now barely conscious, practically fell off Chester when Bucky tried to help him down, and he had to use all his strength just to get him inside. He pulled off Steve’s backpack, chest holster, and utility belt before finally laying him down gently.

After taking off his own gear, Bucky kneeled beside Steve and checked the side wounds first. The shirt was almost completely drenched in blood. A peek underneath it, though, showed the bleeding had essentially stopped, thankfully. The wound placement was bad news. The bullet had likely ripped a hole in his intestines. Bucky couldn’t fix that. He could only hope infection wouldn’t occur there as he healed.

He sat back on his heels and tried to recall his medical training, but drew a blank. What was he supposed to do for bullet wounds?

His hands were shaking again.

Steve groaned and shifted. Immediately, Bucky was placating him, drawing a hand through his golden hair, and pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

“I got you,” he muttered into his skin. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I can do this. _I can do this_.” He just had to take it one step at the time. If he started with the basics, he hoped everything else would fall into place.

And it did.

Searching through Steve’s backpack, he pulled out a mostly full canister of water and the first aid kit. A search through his own had him taking out the hand towel he stole from Sam’s.

Bucky unwrapped the rope, and then removed every layer of clothing on Steve’s torso, using his knife to cut parts away. Starting with the side wound, he splashed some water over it and used the towel to clean the edges and soak up any remaining blood. He did the same to the shoulder before gently twisting Steve’s body so that he was mostly lying on his left side without putting too much pressure on his shoulder. He worked fast to clean the exit wound under Steve’s dead weight and laid him back down.

After washing his hands off, he took stock of the first aid kit. It had a healthy supply of gauze, bandages, pills, and medical tape and a set of small tweezers and scissors. There was a previously used wrap and some ointment.

 _Shit_. There was nothing to suture with.

It was fortunate then, that Bucky stopped them in a fabric store. There was bound to be needle and thread around here.

Bucky lightly covered Steve with his metallic emergency blanket, giving the wounds time to air out, and began to search through the backroom with a flashlight.

Finding thread was easy, finding a proper needle was harder. He found a curved needle, but it was about five inches long and so thick he thought it was going to do more harm than good.

Smaller curved needles never made an appearance, and he could try to do the job with a straight one, but it would be harder. Bucky debated between using a straight needle and checking the main floor for a smaller curved one. Using the straight needle would mean he could get started right away. However, he did need to clear out the store anyway, if they were going to be safe in there for the night, and Steve could use the time for his wounds to push out any bad stuff.

Sighing, Bucky decided on clearing out the store first.

He pressed another kiss to Steve’s forehead, murmuring a small, “Be right back,” and exited the storeroom with his bow and arrow, gun and knife. He made sure the door was propped open slightly with a pen from a nearby table before moving on, in case it would lock behind him.

Just a few steps in, he could already hear clickers; about a handful, if his ears weren’t betraying him. Nerves wanted to creep up on him, this would be the first time he was truly solo against so many clickers, but he knew he was ready. He had to be.

He cleared the bathrooms before stepping into the main room. There were already two clickers within range of his bow, so he switched out his weapons and held the flashlight like a cigar in his mouth, out of the way of the string.

After knocking an arrow, he waited patiently for his opening. The clicker paused at the opposite end of the aisle and Bucky loosed the arrow. It embedded in the clicker’s skull with a satisfying thwack. The others were easy after that. The clickers were mostly spaced out and Bucky shot them down, _four, three, two,_ and _one_. Once they were all dead, he made another round of the store to make sure there were none hiding, picking up and cleaning arrows off as he went.

He was surprised to find the store mostly stocked and in decent shape, but for a few messes in the fabric and yarn sections. It took him a moment, but he was eventually able to find where the needles were displayed and slowly made his way down the aisle. Relief swept over him when he found a package with several small curved needles. He pulled it off the hook and practically ran back to Steve in his excitement.

Steve was in the same state that Bucky left him in. He put down his weapons, gathered his supplies, and, after washing off his hands as best as he could again, he set to work. Suturing took time and steady hands. He pinched the skin together as best as he could and made individual sutures, starting in the middle.

As he made each stitch, he talked to Steve. He told him things Steve didn’t already know about his family, the sports he played when he was young, and his first kiss when he was fourteen. He even asked himself questions every now and then, pretending to be Steve. It was a bit silly, but talking calmed him, made it seem like Steve was just lying back and enjoying the sound of his voice.

When he was done suturing all three wounds, he covered each with gauze and taped them up. Then, he pulled the blanket over Steve and sat back.

There were probably things he should be doing now, cleaning up, and making sure Chester was fed, but he couldn’t seem to move from Steve’s side.

Steve almost died today. He could still die, if his wounds were infected. He didn’t know what he would do without Steve. Life without Steve’s grumpy morning face, bashful smiles, and sly comments all seemed so meaningless. He was the only one who ever really cared for Bucky, after his whole family died, and he knew Steve did everything in his power to protect him. There was a generous and loving heart underneath his rough exterior; one that checked Bucky over for injuries whenever they got into an altercation with others and made sure he eating and sleeping enough. Bucky had fallen in love with that man. The one who cared about Bucky’s wellbeing more than his own, the one who would give his life up for Bucky’s without question.

He shook his head as he felt tears build up behind his eyes. Steve was still alive, that’s all he had to think about. Thinking about anything else was just asking for more bad things to come his way.

He needed to get moving. So, he cleaned himself up. He sat Steve up a bit and got some water down his throat. It was still light out, so he geared up and led Chester over to neighboring grassy area to let him eat to his heart’s content. Then he made space in the backroom and let Chester stay inside.

Sitting in a chair, Bucky thought over a game plan. He thought about the resources in the store and what he needed to find outside of it. More shirts, considering he destroyed most of theirs. It was winter, and with Steve likely staying unconscious for the near future, they would need more things for warmth. Then, most importantly, they’d need transportation suited to Steve’s prone comatose state.

Going back into the store, Bucky started with the easy and obvious thing: fabric for blankets. He remembered an easy blanket his mother made one year for his sister, one where he could make little cuts along the edges and tie two pieces together by making knots out of each section. Browsing the fabrics, he chose the thickest and largest pieces of fleece and sherpa he could find and cut them up with his knife at the cutting station.

Once he stored them in the backroom, he prowled the store some more and was surprised to find some plain black and blue shirts in their sizes and square pillows still wrapped in plastic. At least they’ll be somewhat comfortable tonight.

As he made blankets, he thought about what they’d need for transportation. Something that Chester could drag along behind them as they went. A board with wheels of some sort could work. With the increased likelihood of snow, maybe even getting something that could transition easily from wheels to no wheels would be good, too. He mused as he worked and created five good-sized blankets; they weren’t the best looking, but they’ll keep them warm.

Grabbing multiple cardboard boxes, Bucky flattened them out and laid the smallest fleece blanket on it. Then, he removed the emergency blanket from Steve, maneuvered him on top of the makeshift bed, and covered him with a blanket with sherpa fabric on one side. Even though it wasn’t cold enough, he threw another one of the fleece blankets over Chester’s back, just because he could. Horses got cold, too.

After eating some dehydrated fruit and taking a piss in one of the long-dry toilets, Bucky went to lay by Steve. He shoved the new pillows under their heads and pulled another blanket over himself.

He spent most of the night awake, watching Steve breathe.

The next day, Bucky searched for transportation. He wandered around the area, keeping his eyes and ears open for infected and people. He didn’t know if the men who attacked them yesterday were still out there. He still wondered who it was, but thinking it over, Bucky could only think that it was HYDRA who would want to kill any other SHIELD members who had appeared at a previously known SHIELD location.

It was only about noon when he came across a small kit trailer sitting inside an open garage. Steve’s feet would likely stick off the end of it, but it had a solid bottom with side panels and a set of slightly rusted chains long enough to reach the saddle. A search through the garage, which was obviously previously home to a very handy person, Bucky was able to find a hand pump to inflate the tires and a wrench that matched the lugs on the tires. Dragging the trailer back to the store zapped any remaining energy out of him. He left it outside and went to check on Steve.

His condition hadn’t changed since the night before. It didn’t worry him yet, Steve’s body had gone through significant trauma, and rest was what was needed to get through it. He’d worry later if he wasn’t showing signs of getting better. He changed the dressing, smearing some of the ointment as best as he could over the sutures, and covered him back up.

The rest of the afternoon was mostly spent meticulously planning their journey to Salt Lake City and bouncing ideas off Chester. They’d have to go only by roads, no more wandering off the beaten path, but maybe they’d just stick to the back roads, in case HYDRA and the military are watching the main ones. When he was done planning, he started creating bandages and wraps from the additional cotton fabric, for when their supply would inevitably run out.

When Bucky felt his eyes drooping, he huddled under his blanket and curled up as close as he could get to Steve. Sleep was kinder that night.

*

Of all the traits that could rub off on Bucky from Steve, Bucky was glad it was his ability to plan ahead and his survival instincts. Just over a week into their travels, the snow was constantly falling, slowing them to a snail’s pace. The snow wasn’t so deep yet that they needed to take off the wheels, but he kept an eye on it. He also shoved the numerous blankets he made around Steve’s prone form in the trailer, hoping they were enough to keep him warm.

Chester pulled Steve along like a champion, and Bucky followed by foot until he couldn’t feel his toes, then climbed onto Chester for as long as he dared. He feared wearing Chester out too much, especially with the decline in food sources with the snowfall, but he seemed to be doing well so far considering the scarcity.

Their own supply of dried food was dwindling, too. Steve had taught Bucky how to forage and set up the traps, what kinds of plants and berries were good to eat, but that had all been during the fall, when vegetation was plentiful and the animals didn’t migrate. And it wasn’t like Steve had all these things written down in a book, they were all in his head. A useless place to be, at the moment.

Steve had yet to regain full consciousness. He had moments here and there where he was half-conscious and could barely understand a word Bucky was saying, but Bucky shoved water down his throat whenever that happened and hoped it was just a sign of him getting closer to waking up.

One early afternoon, they passed by a cluster of cabins on a hillside. It was quiet, and off one of the back roads Bucky had taken. Not knowing when the next safe location would crop up, Bucky opted for commandeering one of the cabins. He chose one of the cabins furthest from the road that already had the back door unlocked, and cleared it of infected. Then he opened up the garage for Chester to back the trailer up into. Once he unhitched it, he grabbed two large pots and took Chester to an area where a little vegetation could be seen. As Chester ate, Bucky gathered all the snow he could fit in to the pots and carried it back with them when Chester was done.

Bucky did his usual routine when settling into the new place. He made a small fire in the garage, with one of the small garage windows open, and boiled the snow. He grabbed the closest mattress and dragged it into the garage so that he could move Steve to a more comfortable spot. Then, he checked Steve’s bandages to see if there was a change from the morning.

The sutures in his side were ready to come out, the shoulder’s thread having already been taken out days before, but Bucky was most concerned about the increase in redness around them. He placed the back of his hand against Steve’s forehead and pursed his lips when he couldn’t tell if Steve was too hot or if his hand was too cold. Bucky decided to wait another day on the sutures and instead focused on trying to prevent infection. He washed the wounds and let it air dry before brushing ointment on them. Then he wrapped one of the pieces of cut fabric around Steve’s belly and around his shoulder.

With no other pressing matters, Bucky went hunting. He took Chester out all over the hillside, the snow crunching under Chester’s feet as the kept an eye out. It was some time before movement caught his eye in the distance. He stilled and pulled up his bow and arrow slowly. When the little thing, a rabbit, darted a few yards more, Bucky waited until it paused to fire. He smiled to himself. His aim was getting better and better with each try.

The rabbit was tied to Chester, and Bucky was about to hop back on when more movement distracted him. A deer had paused to eat further down the hill. Elation coursed through Bucky; a deer would be enough meat to last him days, if not weeks if he rationed it right.

The deer moved on before Bucky could get his bow up. He tied Chester up the closest tree with a quick apology and a, “You’ll just spook it,” before chasing after it.

Every time Bucky tried to set himself up for the kill shot, the deer, with some spooky sixth sense, loped off, leaving Bucky to rush after it. He hadn’t taken a deer down yet with just the bow, usually preferring the rifle, but he’d left it behind in favor of not announcing himself to the whole area.

It took some time, but finally the deer stopped at the perfect angle and just close enough that Bucky was confident his hit would land properly. He lifted his arms and pulled back on the string. No sooner did he loose the arrow, did the deer start to move again, but even though he saw the arrow connect and heard a squawk, the deer ran off.

Cursing to himself, Bucky ran after it, following the blood trail it left behind. He followed it down the hill and past fire-ridden buildings. The deer had collapsed just beyond them. Bucky checked to see if it was breathing, and was glad to see it wasn’t.

A twig snapped to his right.

Bucky promptly shifted into an offensive stance with an arrow ready to fire. No animal appeared.

“Who’s there?” Bucky called out. “Show yourself!”

It took a moment, but two men stepped out from a copse of trees with their hands up. They both looked to be about Steve’s age, if not a little older. The first man was stockier than the other was, but they both had dark hair and five o’clock shadows. A rifle was slung over the first man’s shoulder, and he could see a handgun holstered against the second man’s thigh.

Bucky didn’t know what to make of them at first glance. They weren’t exactly armed to the teeth, but they looked strong on their own.

“Any sudden moves and this arrow will go right through your eye,” Bucky threatened, swinging his arms to point at both of them. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, got it,” the first man said, gently. “We just wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“That deer you got there. We’re part of a large group and there’a lotta mouths to feed.”

“Yeah? I got mouths to feed, too.”

“Right.” The man smiled thinly. He then gestured to himself and then the other man saying, “I’m Brock, and this is Jack. And you are?”

Bucky eyed Brock. He didn’t trust Brock as far as he could throw him. Then again, their track record with new people was pretty split between hostile and friendly, there was a chance he was in the latter category.

“James,” Bucky said eventually.

Brock smiled kindly. “James,” he said. “What would you say to a trade, then? We might have something else you need more than the deer. Weapons? Ammo? Clothes?”

Steve immediately came to mind. His wounds were on the verge of infection, and Bucky wasn’t sure he’d be able to do anything but clean them.

“Medicine,” Bucky replied urgently. “Antibiotics for infections. Do you have anything like that?”

“We got some antibiotics. If you want, you can come back to our camp and get it yourself.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m not _that_ dumb, okay? What you’re going to do is send your pal Jack here to get it and when he gets back with the medicine, you can have the deer. Then, we’ll go our separate ways. If I see anyone else but Jack coming back, though –”

“You’ll shoot me right in the eye,” Brock finished off with a laugh.

“Exactly. We got a deal?”

Brock stared at Bucky. His jaw twitched as he nodded. “Jack, get a bottle of penicillin and a syringe for our friend James here.”

Jack looked ready to protest, but backed down when Brock raised a brow. He threw Bucky a furtive glance and left back in the direction in which they appeared.

Neither deigned to speak once Jack was gone. Bucky was more than wary about Brock now. The little offer to take him to their camp screamed all sorts of wrong, so Bucky knew that he had to be in top form.

“Pass me the rifle,” Bucky said. “Slowly.”

Brock raised his arms in surrender while smiling toothlessly and slowly moved closer to toss the rifle at Bucky’s feet. Bucky quickly switched out the bow in favor of the rifle. He checked to see if it was loaded and was happy to see it was. His shoulders relaxed from being the one armed between the two and under the familiar feeling of a rifle in his hands. Bucky kept the gun trained on Brock, who didn’t seem to care that he was on the other end of it, and kept his distance.

“How about we wait inside one of these buildings? It’s kinda cold out,” Brock suggested, faking a shiver. “It might be a while ‘til he gets back, too.”

It would only get colder as time passed and there was a light breeze. There would be no real difference between waiting outside or inside, but Bucky decided to humor him.

“Fine,” Bucky said and gestured to the deer. “You take it with us.”

“Sure thing, kid.”

Bucky bristled, but followed along as Brock took the deer by its antlers and dragged it into the closest building that had no front door. There were a few desks and chairs, covered in dirt and rusted over. Some of the windows were broken and the wind whistled as it blew inside.

“You even know how to shoot that thing?” Brock asked as he set the deer down in the corner of the room.

“You wanna find out?” Bucky replied meaningfully.

Brock must’ve understood because he laughed. “I like you, you’ve got guts.”

Bucky didn’t return the sentiment. Brock acted like most of the military guys he worked with. Overgrown babies with muscles who got a gun shoved in their hands and told that their life was more important than the average citizen was.

“What do you say to a little fire?” Brock asked. “I got some flint with me.”

Bucky shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”

Bucky watched from the entrance as Brock went to the nearby grouping of trees and collected some rocks, branches, and leaves. Then he watched as Brock set up the fire in the middle of the room. It was a little thing, but Bucky found himself moving closer to it, at least to warm his toes.

“You know it’s dangerous to be out alone like this,” Brock commented as he dragged over a chair and sat down with a sigh.

“I like it that way.” Bucky got his own chair and made sure Brock was in his eye line still as he placed his back to the only wall without a window. He laid the rifle across himself on top of the armrests.

“Alright,” Brock replied with a slanted grin. “But you’re not really alone are you? You got that sick person to take care of, right? You obviously care about them enough to do all this. Hopefully they’ll be alright once they get that medicine.”

“How about we don’t talk?” Bucky said shortly. He wasn’t about to start pouring his heart out about Steve and his worries about his condition. Or how sometimes he startled awake from dreams where Steve died while he slept and rushed to check to see if he was still breathing.

Brock seemed mostly amused by Bucky’s suggestion and held up his hands again, as if he was eager to show he was no threat to Bucky. “You don’t wanna unload on a stranger, got it,” he said. Then, he slouched in his chair and tilted his head back. “In that case, I’m gonna get some shut eye.”

Bucky internally scoffed when the asshole did just that. He could tell it was all for show, Brock’s hands loosely laid in his lap, but most of his muscles were still coiled and ready to spring. Bucky sighed and settled in to wait.

Time passed slowly. He reached into the pile of branches next to the fire every now and then and tossed them in to keep it lit while they wait. Brock stayed true to his word and kept his eyes closed, and while his muscles did relax after a while, Bucky could tell he wasn’t actually asleep.

Maybe about an hour or so into their wait, Bucky could hear a noise just underneath the wind. He perked up in his chair. Brock must’ve heard it too because he finally opened his eyes and looked out the closet window.

The noise didn’t get any louder, but Bucky could hear the distinctive clicks and knew that a bunch of infected were probably just released from one of the buildings. Bucky wasn’t surprised. These structures weren’t very stable looking. If the wind blew hard enough, it could knock something loose.

Bucky got up and tiptoed to the window anyway. Looking out, he could see a grouping of clickers and runners in the distance, probably about fifty yards away, prowling their new outdoor environment. They were close enough that if they made a loud enough noise, like a gunshot, they would definitely come running.

“We should be fine in here,” Brock surmised from the other window. Bucky hadn’t even noticed that he’d gotten up.

Bucky sat back down and Brock did the same.

“Jack should be back soon,” Brock said. “If he wasn’t held up.”

“Why would he be held up?”

Brock gave Bucky a look like he thought Bucky was a bit dumb. “Medicine ain’t an easy thing to get nowadays and a big group like ours needs all the supplies we can get.”

“Must not be important enough, though, if you’re willing to trade a deer for it.”

Brock smiled. “Well, I believe everything happens for a reason. We needed food, you needed medicine. So, this chance meeting allowed both of us to get something we desperately need.”

“I think what you’re describing is called luck.”

“Nah, it ain’t luck, kid, and I’ll prove it.” He paused and Bucky gestured for him to humor him. Bucky hoped that if he finally got Brock to talk, like he was dying to do, he’d tire himself out and finally shut up.

“A couple weeks ago, some of our guys went into the city to scavenge for supplies. A standard run for us. We’d had no trouble there before, but only a few of them came back this time. The ones who came back said the others were…slaughtered…by a psychotic man who they saw was injured, and a kid…with a bow n’ arrow. So, imagine my surprise when I come across a kid with a bow n’ arrow wanting medicine for someone who’s sick. I wouldn’t say that’s luck, would you?”

Bucky shot up to his feet and backed away from Brock, suspicious about what he was going to do now that he told Bucky this. Even though Bucky was the one with the gun, he couldn’t shoot it, not for the infected nearby and the medicine that hadn’t arrived yet. Besides, for all his smarminess, Brock actually hadn’t done anything to Bucky but be nosy. He had the gun raised and ready to fire, but it had been nine years since he shot someone in cold blood and he wasn’t looking forward to taking it up again.

Brock sat in his chair, cool as a cucumber. “It’s alright. I get it. A bunch of guys come up on you two and you want to defend yourselves. You’re a kid, you didn’t know any better. You were just probably following the other guy, huh.”

“I hardly think firing a head shot at me is as friendly a greeting as you think it is,” Bucky gritted out.

“Jack, lower the gun,” Brock then said, and Bucky swung the rifle around to the doorway where Jack stood with a gun pointed at Bucky. He was off his game. He didn’t even hear Jack arrive.

“You just wanna let’m go?” Jack protested.

“Yes, and give him the medicine.”

Jack scoffed, but did what he was told after a few seconds. “They weren’t happy with me taking this,” Jack said as he tossed a small pouch to Bucky’s feet.

“That’s fine,” Brock said, bored. “I’ll explain it to them.”

Bucky slowly lowered himself to the floor, keeping the rifle trained on Jack, and picked up the pouch. He took a quick look inside and saw a syringe and a tiny glass bottle of liquid. Bucky shoved it in his jacket pocket and gestured for Jack to get out the way.

Jack moved away from the doorway and Bucky backed up out of the room.

“You know, you can still come with us,” Brock said. “We can protect you and give you a nice place to live.”

“No, thanks,” Bucky responded.

“Alright, then,” Brock smiled. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Bucky swallowed and repressed a shudder at the threat. “If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to shoot.”

Bucky backed up out of sight and around the building before turning and sprinting away. He looked back every now and then to see if either of them were following him, but Bucky didn’t catch sight of them if they were.

After he made it back to Chester, he rode back to the cabin as fast as Chester could run, eager to get away and get the medicine to Steve.

When he arrived back at the cabin, he threw his stuff aside and fell to Steve’s side. He poured the contents of the pouch into his hand and turned the small bottle of liquid until he could read the label: _Penicillin_. He unwrapped the syringe next and paused. He didn’t how much of the drug he needed or where to administer it. It was a small syringe, so a full dose probably wouldn’t hurt. But was it something that needed to be administered right into the bloodstream? He wasn’t sure he’d be able to find a vein. Or maybe it was shoved into the thigh like an Epi-pen? What if Steve was allergic to penicillin?

Bucky sat back with a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t know what to do. Drugs weren’t something to play around with. All he could do was make his best guess and hope it wasn’t the wrong one.

After some thought, the thigh seemed the way to go. He’d probably do more harm than good trying to find a vein. So, he put down the supplies and began to work Steve’s jeans down. When he had them down to his knees, he pushed up the boxers underneath to expose more of Steve’s pale thigh. Then, he filled the syringe to the highest line, made sure there was were no air bubbles, and paused.

This was the moment of truth. Bucky pushed away all negative thoughts that what he was doing was wrong. Steve needed this medicine and it was Bucky’s job to take care of him like he’d been taking care of Bucky all along; even when he didn’t want to.

Before he lost his nerve, Bucky pinched the thickest part of Steve’s thigh and injected the syringe into the pinched skin. Steve groaned when the needle slid into him, and squirmed minutely. Bucky bit his lip as he slowly delivered the penicillin. Steve calmed down when he removed the needle and Bucky leaned up to brush his hand across Steve’s face. Then, he sat back and waited. Would any signs of an allergic reaction be immediate or slow to appear?

While he waited, he took a small band-aid from the first aid kit and put it over the injection sight. He then pulled Steve’s pants back up and recovered him with the blankets.

Bucky spent the rest of the night watching over Steve, looking for signs that the penicillin had an effect on him, but there was none. When he checked the bandages before he went to sleep, the wounds hadn’t gotten any worse, but only time would tell. He could probably administer another round in the morning.

He slept fitfully that night, curled up in a little space next to Steve on the mattress.

Early the next morning, Bucky woke up to glass shattering. It wasn’t anywhere in this house, thankfully, but it was close enough to worry him. He hopped up off the mattress and ran to the living room. Peeking out the curtains, he saw a group of armed men down the street, going into each of the cabins.

“Shit,” Bucky breathed and raced back to the garage.

He skidded to stop next to Steve and knelt down. “Hey,” he said, talking to Steve like he was awake. “There’re some bad guys out there who likely want to kill us for killing their buddies, who trying to kill _us_ , so I don’t think we were really in the wrong there. But I’m gonna go lead them away from here, and then I’ll come back for you, okay? Don’t do anything stupid, asshole.” He swiped his thumb lightly over his cheek and murmured, “Love you.”

After kissing Steve’s cold cheek, Bucky gathered all his gear and quietly took Chester out of the garage. Wanting them to think Steve was in another cabin, he snuck around a few of them before getting on Chester. Then, he tried to sneak close enough to get their attention, but far enough away to get a head start.

He passed between two of the cabins and picked up a little speed.

“I see the kid!” a man shouted, followed by a gunshot. Bucky ducked down and rode downhill toward the main road at a gallop.

“Don’t kill him, dipshit! Brock wants him alive!” a second one shouted back.

Despite the reminder, Bucky continued to be shot at as men started popping out of different cabins and cars. The place was crawling with them. He slipped between cabins and made quick turns whenever a group of men appeared ahead of him. A man tried to run up on Bucky and almost pulled him down off the saddle, but he managed to kick him off.

“Shoot the horse!”

Bucky cursed and tried to make Chester go faster, but he knew that he was already going as fast as they could. A bullet sailed so close to him that he could hear it whip by. He felt some relief when he saw the main road come into view. They slid onto it and began riding further away.

Another gunshot rang out and Bucky was suddenly flying. He sailed off the road and down the hill on the other side of it. He could hear Chester squealing as he rolled. When he stopped, he shakily got himself to his feet. Chester was already up and galloping away though, leaving behind a smear of blood in the snow.

“Chester!” Bucky yelled and ran after him, but he knew it was no use. He could hear men shouting up on the road, so he made the decision to move on without Chester. It broke his heart to do so, but he could move easier on foot, and the men didn’t care about Chester, only Bucky and Steve.

Bucky climbed down the steep hill, through the trees, and stomped through the fresh snow that went up to his ankles. He went all the way down until he got to the edge of a cliff next to a familiar lakeshore. He’d come by this lake on the way to the cabins and knew if he went past the resort at the end of the cliffs, he’d find the main road again. So, Bucky traversed the cliff’s edge, weaving behind trees and boulders until he got to where the cliff began to merge back into the hillside near the resort.

He was about to step out from the cover of the trees and rocks when he noticed two men sitting on the back of a large pick-up truck, facing the road other. Then he noticed three more sprawled amongst some furniture out front. They were all armed and clearly waiting on something. It was possible that they wouldn’t see him, but it was a risk Bucky couldn’t take.

Bucky pulled his rifle off his shoulder and dug through his bag for the extra bullets. He lay down as best he could on the cliff and used a rock to give him some cover. After making sure the gun was fully loaded, Bucky lowered his eye to the scope and examined the men. He chose the man sitting furthest away to kill first because all he had to do was duck down to find cover while the others were a bit more exposed.

He cocked the gun. The man’s head was put in his crosshairs.

Breathe in.

Exhale.

Fire.

The gunshot echoed across the lake.

The man barely had time to slump over before Bucky chose his next target, another man sitting. By the time Bucky wrecked his head, too, the others had finally gotten over their shock and scrambled for cover, yelling at each other about a sniper.

One guy in the truck was an idiot though, or clearly just didn’t know which direction the shots were coming from. He took shelter on the side of truck where Bucky was hiding. With a sigh at the sheer stupidity, Bucky rid the world of one more idiot.

He was about to find another man to shoot when something hard pressed up against the back of his head. Bucky froze. He barely dared even to breathe.

“Well, would you look at that,” a familiar voice said. “You are a good shot with that thing.” Bucky tried to think of something that he could do that wouldn’t amount to getting his head blown off. “Look at me, kid.”

Bucky turned his head slowly and saw Brock standing above him with a sly grin. He wasn’t holding the gun, so he could only think that someone else, probably Jack, was on the other side of him.

“You really should learn to cover your tracks. We found you in no time,” Brock said, conversationally. “We’re gonna get you set up real nice at our place, and, who knows, maybe boss will let you stay with him. He likes the pretty, young boys like you.”

Brock’s grin was dark now and Bucky knew he had to fight back somehow. He wasn’t just going to let himself be taken. So, he jerked his elbow back to knock the gun away and kicked at Brock’s knee, forcing him away. Bucky reach for his gun next. He pulled it out and then – nothing.

*

Bucky woke up to searing pain in his cheekbone. He tried to touch it, to gauge how bad it was, but found that his arms were bound behind his back. Then he realized he was blindfolded and on his side. His body rocked to the sway of the car he was lying in. The noise of the engine and the crunch of the tires told him that he was likely in the cab of a truck. The cold sting of snowfall on his face confirmed it for him. He wiggled his wrists against the bonds and found no give to them. When he tried to move his legs, he discovered they were tied together as well.

Even though he was tied up, he couldn’t live with himself if he just sat there uselessly. He flopped around as he struggled against the ties, trying to find give somewhere. When that didn’t work, he tried to get the blindfold off.

He was attempting to use his knees to remove it when he felt the car slow. People were chatting in the background. Eventually, the car came to a stop.

Two people got out of the car and Bucky listened as they walked to the foot of the car. Heart in his throat, Bucky’s body coiled, ready to fight.

“Alright, kid, welcome home,” Brock teased.

The cab door was opened and hands wrapped around Bucky’s ankles. He was pulled once, and when the hands lifted off, Bucky quickly pulled his legs back and jabbed blindly at Brock and Jack. He grinned when he felt his feet connect and heard the _oomph_ of someone losing their breath.

“Hey!” Brock barked.

Bucky was heaved upward, only to crash back down after his head snapped to the side by a slap. The only positive was that the strike was on the opposite cheek of where he’d already been hit.

Someone then tugged him until he was sitting up at the end of the truck.

“Listen here, asshole,” Brock said, close enough to Bucky’s face that he could smell his breath. “You behave and you’ll have a good time here. You fight, you run, you doing _anything_ stupid, and when we find your friend, I’m gonna make you watch as I _slowly_ carve him into llittle pieces. And, don’t worry, I’ll make it last. Do ya hear me?”

Bucky didn’t reply. He was too busy gritting his teeth and refraining from smashing his head against Brock’s. His blood was boiling. Brock knew he cared about Steve. He showed someone his weakness and now he had to watch it be thrown back at him. His only hope was that they didn’t find Steve.

A light slap to his face brought him out of his thoughts.

“I _said:_ Did. You. Hear. Me?”

Reluctantly, Bucky gritted out, “Yes.”

“Good.” Bucky wanted to punch the smug look he probably had right off his face.

His feet were freed and as he was dragged up onto them, the blindfold was removed.

It was snowing harder than he thought. As if reading his mind, the wind picked up and brought with it more snow. He could see his own puffs of breath evaporate in front of him.

They were in a parking lot enclosed with fences, and, as Brock and Jack frog marched him out, Bucky noticed they were at the edge of a town. There were small groups of armed men milling around. He even saw two women walking a group of ten or so children into a small building. Brock wasn’t lying when he implied that they had a nice set up going, if it weren’t for the guns and the drab clothing, he would’ve guessed the apocalypse hadn’t even happened.

When they neared an idling car, Bucky noticed Brock stand up straighter. Then he realized why. The only two men he’d seen so far without a gun here were headed their direction, and following them were six men in camo.

“Pierce,” Brock said once they were in earshot and pulled Bucky to a stop.

The man in front, Pierce, Bucky presumed, was around Bucky’s height, with dark blond, almost red hair, and a deeply lined face. Despite the cold, he wore no beanie and the finest, thickest clothes he had ever seen post outbreak.

Pierce smiled toothlessly at Brock as they approached.

“Rumlow,” Pierce said. “What’s the status?”

“This is the kid I was telling you about,” Brock said proudly. “Only a matter of time until we find the other.”

“Task’s not done until we get both.” It was said neutrally, but Bucky knew there was a hint of a warning in the words.

“I’m confident we’ll find him.”

“Good,” Pierce said. Then, he turned his attention onto Bucky and motioned for him to come forward with a curl of his finger. “Come here.”

Bucky didn’t move. A sickly feeling twisted in his stomach. He swallowed and gritted his teeth. After a few seconds of immobility, a shove to Bucky’s back propelled him forward. He stumbled a bit and shuffled until he was within arm’s reach of Pierce.

He flinched when Pierce grabbed him by the chin with a cold hand and started turning his head side to side, up and down. Bucky avoided any eye contact, preferring to keep his eyes on the sky or the ground. His stomach curdled when Pierce forced open his mouth to examine inside. The action was humiliating. He felt like a piece of meat up at auction.

“How old are you?” Pierce asked.

“Twenty-two,” Bucky lied.

Pierce merely hummed as he squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and ran his hand down to his bicep and squeezed there as well. “Can still a few good years out of you, anyway, I think.” The hand moved down further, feeling up Bucky’s ribs, waist, and hips. Bucky clenched his jaw and tried not to recoil when Pierce cupped his genitals through his jeans and groped his ass. 

He finally let go of Bucky and said to Brock, “Break him in. If he’s compliant afterward, set him up at the house. If not, throw him with the others.”

Bucky tried to not show the despair he felt at Pierce’s words. Rape was common in the world now, but such blatant sexual assault and sex trafficking was not. He never imagined that he would get himself in this situation. Never even thought about the possibility.

“Yes, sir,” Brock replied.

Pierce then walked past Bucky, followed by a squat man with glasses and the men in camo.

“Zola and I’ll be back in about a month,” he heard Pierce tell Brock. “You’re in charge until then.”

“Yes, sir. Hail HYDRA.”

Bucky froze. Dread dripped down his spine.

“Hail HYDRA,” Pierce replied.

With the luck he and Steve had been having since leaving Boston, Bucky wasn’t surprised he ended up prisoner at a HYDRA base. But he was pissed and, if he was honest, a bit afraid. According to Steve, these were not only bad guys, but _bad men_ , men without care, full of cruelty and hate. Bucky couldn’t say he disagreed after their run ins in Pittsburgh and Boulder.

Caught up in his thoughts, Bucky barely gathered that he was being moved again and that Brock was talking. “– you were perfect. Personally, I don’t like ‘em as young as Pierce, but I’m not gonna say no to a month of fun and extra rations. And once we’re all done with you, you’re going to be sitting pretty up at Pierce’s house, just like I promised.”

Bucky, stunned by the occurrence of events, couldn’t bring himself to think of a reply. He stayed silent as Brock and Jack dragged him through the town.

They passed by two men who had taken up post at the end of a street away from the hustle and bustle, and, some little ways down, he was pushed into an empty building full of metal tables, shelves, and hooks attached to the ceiling. There was one skinned animal and a naked man hanging from the hooks. Bucky quickly looked away.

On the far side of the building was a cage. As they moved him closer to it, he could see a bucket in the corner and old blood stains on the ground. He suddenly knew that if they put him in there, he would die here. Maybe not in this room, but in this town, and only after he’s been beaten, tortured, and raped. If there ever was a time to fight back, it was now.

Jack waited by the open gate in front of Bucky, and Bucky finally noticed that Jack was carrying his belongings on his shoulder. He smiled to himself while Brock stood behind him and cut loose the bindings around his wrists. The moment his hands were free, Bucky leapt forward and struck Jack so hard across the face, Bucky could feel the reverberations up his arm. Brock was on his back immediately though, wrapping an arm around his waist, and trying to get his other arm around his neck. All Bucky felt was flesh pressed against his mouth, so he opened wide and bit down as hard as he could. Brock screamed as blood filled Bucky’s mouth. He let go when Brock jerked his arm back hard enough. Bucky stumbled as heavy weight pressed him face first against the cage.

“You little, bitch!” Brock snarled in his ear. Bucky struggled to get out of his hold. “Ya know, I was gonna wait ‘til tomorrow to start breaking you in, but I’m thinkin’, maybe I oughta start right now. Jack, hold him down.” Weight shifted behind him, and Bucky turned his head to the left to see Jack reaching over to hold his shoulders. He looked down at Jack’s waist and saw a knife holstered there. He let his arms slowly drag down the cage.

Just as Brock’s hands scrambled for the button of Bucky’s jeans, Bucky yelled, “I’m infected! I’m infected!”

“Yeah right,” Brock scoffed.

“Not joking, dickhead,” Bucky replied. A slow, bloody grin took over his face. “I’m infected, and now you are too, _Brock_.”

“Nice try.”

“Check my left shoulder.” There wasn’t any movement, but he could see Jack’s worried face. “Look!” He wiggled his left shoulder for emphasis.

Suddenly, a hand scrabbled for the neck of his jacket and shirt and pulled them aside to reveal the scar on his shoulder.

“Everything happens for a reason, right?” Bucky mocked.

It was quiet for a moment, then: “What the fuck is that!” Jack yelled, loosening his hold on Bucky.

“Whatever this is, it’s old as fuck,” Brock argued back. “It’s not real!”

“I’m not an idiot. I know what a bite looks like!”

“He would’ve turned by now!”

Bucky used the distraction grab a hold of the knife on Jack’s belt and jab it up under his jaw.

As Jack spluttered and choked, Brock jumped off Bucky’s back, cursing. Bucky pulled out the knife and immediately spun around to swipe it at Brock who bounded back even further. When Bucky saw him reach for his gun, he dropped down and hid behind one of the tables.

“C’mon, kid,” Brock taunted. “I know you’re lyin’.”

Bucky risked the reach over to Jack’s body on the ground and pulled him over with all his might. He quickly slung on his backpack and all his other weapons, even his thigh holster, over his shoulders then crawled to the other end of the table.

“Just c’mon out, and everythin’ll be fine, alright?” Brock’s voice was closer to where Jack was laying.

Bucky tossed the knife away from the door, and just when it clattered onto the floor, he sprinted for the open door. There was a gunshot, but either it didn’t hit him or his adrenaline was covering up it up for him. Bucky sailed out into the street, into the worsening weather, and ran in the opposite direction of the main street. He turned on different streets and darted between buildings, skidding to change course whenever he saw a group of men, and finally ended up running into a dark building.

He stopped to catch his breath. There was no doubt that news of his escape would be making the rounds and that everyone would be searching for him now. But with the change in weather, Bucky wondered if it might be smarter to wait until the impending snowstorm hit before trying to leave. He could use the snow as cover and try to find the least protected exit out of town. Finding shelter after he left would be an issue he’d have to deal with, but he’d rather take his chances out in the cold.

Bucky strapped on his thigh holster and dug through his backpack for his Yellowstone beanie; the one that Steve said made him look _nice_ , but Bucky translated as _cute_. He was surprised to find that his knife had been stashed away in his backpack too, slipping to the side in the shuffle. After putting it back into his pocket and the beanie on his head, he took a swig from his canister to rinse his mouth and spit out any lingering blood.

Taking stock of the building he was in, it was an old clothing store, half-full and dusty. Although they had a town to spread out in, Bucky got the impression they weren’t so big that they could fully occupy it. There was a loft, and although it was only half the size of the main floor, it had a window that overlooked the street. Bucky carried up a wooden chair from downstairs and set it to the side of the window so that he could keep an eye out for any intruders.

Bucky sat and waited. Alone with his thoughts, he realized he’d done this a lot in his life. It was only until now did he feel he was going somewhere. He was with someone who made him happy to wake up in the morning and smile for no reason. Every day he felt free to be himself. He felt cared for and loved. And he hadn’t felt either of those things for a very long time.

He watched as the wind kicked up and the buildings he was once able to see down the road be overtaken by white.

If Bucky had to guess, it was mid-afternoon by the time he saw shadowy movement in the snowfall. A group of men were making their way down the street, sweeping each store. He left then, while they were still a bit away. The storm was thick enough now that he could use it for cover.

The wind was fierce, whipping snow across his face and reminding him of his bruised cheek. With the high wind speed and low visibility, he walked through town slowly with his gun out. It wouldn’t do to bring a knife to a gunfight.

When he saw indistinct figures, he slipped into doorways and waited for them to pass him by. They talked sometimes, and most of what he heard were complaints about Brock and his inability to keep track of his prisoners. Bucky almost laughed and gave away his position the first time he heard it.

Bucky knew he finally reached the end of town when he met a high fence with barbed wire on top. He cursed and kicked it. Turning back around, he thought about where to go, retracing his steps would be useless. He began walking back to the edge of the building on the right of him, when people entered the street to his left. Thinking quickly, he turned around and slipped into the partially propped open door he just passed by.

Inside was a restaurant kitchen. The place was empty as far as he could tell, even though there were candle lanterns still lit about the place. Happy to get out from the cold for a moment, he slowly made his way through the restaurant, past the booths and tables toward the front door.

He opened the front door, took a step outside, and froze. A click could barely be heard over the wind, but the cold metal to the side of his temple was unmistakable. Fear speared him.

“Back up,” Brock ordered. Bucky stepped back into the restaurant as Brock appeared from behind the door, gun held up to Bucky’s head.

Brock glanced down to Bucky’s hands and said, “Drop the gun.”

Bucky did as he asked and Brock kicked it toward the corner of the room. He tried to think about what Steve would do in this situation. There was a chance that Brock wouldn’t actually kill him, he was only too happy to have a month of doing whatever he wanted to Bucky, he wouldn’t give him up that easily. On the other hand, Bucky could reach Brock’s limit and prove that he was too much to handle.

“Saw you slipping into the back. I’m three for three with you, now aren’t I?” Brock goaded with a grin. “Now hands up and turn around.”

Bucky slowly brought his hands up and remembered what Steve taught him about disarming. He played along for a moment longer, making it look like he was going to turn around, but as he began to do so, his left hand shot out to grab the barrel of the gun to turn it away from him, and his right hand tried to strike Brock’s wrist hard enough to collapse it. It partially worked.

Instead of getting control of the gun, they began fighting over it. As Brock tried to pull away, Bucky pushed him back into the wall beside the door. They slid along the wall until they smashed into a rickety table with a lantern on it, which shattered. As Bucky’s grip slipped, Brock elbowed him back and he lost his breath as he stumbled onto the floor.

“Remember what I said?” Brock asked as Bucky crawled backward on the ground. Bucky watched as the smoke rose from the bottom of the curtains that hung around the windows behind Brock. “You’ve got guts. It’s gonna make breaking you _so much_ sweeter.”

Knowing that Brock didn’t have plans to kill him just now, Bucky got up and ran toward the back door. Laughter followed him through the kitchen. He slammed into the back door, but it barely swayed under his weight.

“Locked it and barricaded it on the other side,” Bucky could hear Brock say.

He huffed in frustration as he dropped to a crouch. He had his knife, rifle, and bow. The knife would be good if he could get close enough, but Brock was going to be quicker on the draw with the other two. Bucky crouch walked to the edge of the kitchen and peeked into the dining room. Brock had barely moved. He looked arrogant, amused, and completely unbothered, all at the same time. If he wanted to get out of here, Bucky would either have to knock him out or kill him.

There was another entryway into the dining room to his right. He thought if he could exit that way without notice, he could try to do a sneak attack from the side. Bucky crawled to the other exit, but paused when he passed by some heavy-duty plates. As quietly as he could, he grabbed two of them and began to army crawl instead.

“You know what I wanna know? I wanna know how you did it. That bite looked really good, but – old.”

Bucky crawled out unnoticed and edged his way down the row of booths Brock was standing next to. The curtains had caught fire by now and the fire was spreading to the wooden building, but Brock was unconcerned as thick smoke began to appear.

“No infected person fights so hard. They kill themselves the first chance they get. Or have someone else do it for them. The cowards are the ones who turn and then inflict themselves on the rest of us. You don’t strike me as a coward, kid.”

Bucky let Brock drone on like he seemed to love and got as close as he could without being seen and got up into a crouch. Taking one plate in hand, Bucky chucked it as hard as he could at Brock’s head. Brock barely had time to react. The plate clipped him on the cheek as he ducked out of the way, lowering his gun halfway to the ground. Bucky was flying toward him now, and he threw the second plate at Brock’s gun hand before he could reorient himself. His aim was true, the plate slammed so hard and unexpectedly against Brock’s hand that he dropped the gun. Bucky had his knife ready next, and it was only two more steps until he reached Brock.

Brock was ready for him this time, as Bucky jabbed his arm forward, Brock knocked it away like he was swatting a fly. A hand suddenly gripped Bucky’s throat tightly and threw him to the ground. He landed harshly on his right side and the force of it caused him to lose his grip on the knife, sliding it under the nearby booth. Bucky turned onto his belly and began to crawl to it. A kick to the stomach knocked what little breath he had out of him.

“There’s nothing wrong with giving up,” Brock said. Bucky tried to crawl away again, but a heavy weight on his shoulders pinned him to the ground, making it hard to breathe. “I didn’t like fuckin’ boys when this all started, but a hole’s a hole, y’know. You learn to like it. So, how about we finish what we started earlier, huh? I’ll be good and break ya in nice ‘n gentle, too. I promise.”

Bucky eyed the hidden knife just beyond his outstretched hands. It was only a little bit out of reach. If he could only move up a few more inches. If Brock let go of him, he should have enough time to lunge for it. So, Bucky forced himself to go limp.

“There we go,” Brock all but cooed. The weight lifted off his back, but Bucky could only shuffle an inch or two before Brock straddled his thighs, pinning him in place again.

Bucky’s heart raced and he breathed heavily as Brock shoved his hands around his waist and undid his jeans. He kept his eyes on the knife and tried not to think about what Brock was doing. Brock began to pull down his jeans and underwear in one go, and Bucky had to swallow not to make any noise of protest. He knew that, at some point, Brock would have to lift up a bit, or maybe he’d be too into the raping to notice that he was actually pushing Bucky closer to the knife. Nothing about this situation was ideal, but he hoped, he _prayed_ , for his window of opportunity to arrive sooner rather than later.

“Fucking jeans,” Brock said as he tried to pull them down over Bucky’s ass.

Bucky’s prayers were answered when he felt Brock’s weight disappear. Bucky immediately began wiggling forward and Brock laughed above him as he held onto Bucky’s pants to drag them down.

“That eager, huh?”

Bucky didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Brock was too caught up looking at his ass to notice that Bucky was leaning on one arm and swinging a knife. Bucky felt nothing but satisfaction as the knife lodged in Brock’s throat. Brock stared at him in shock. As he brought shaky hands up to his throat, Bucky pulled out the knife. Blood came pouring out. Brock choked.

Bucky knocked Brock onto his back and scrambled to straddle his waist. With the hand that wasn’t holding his throat, Brock tried to push him off, but he was too weak from the shock and blood loss for it to have any real effect. Bucky brushed his hand aside easily and stabbed him in the chest, too. But then, that wasn’t enough.

This man followed him. Kidnapped him. Had him molested. Almost raped him. Wanted to treat him like a sex slave. Bucky wailed as he continued to stab Brock repeatedly. He didn’t keep count of how many times he knifed him, but he went at it long enough that he wouldn’t have been able to say when the body went still.

Bucky flinched when an arm wrapped around his chest and a hand gripped his blood-covered wrist to heave him off Brock.

“Get the fuck off ‘a me!” Bucky screamed.

As he tried to twist in their grasp, he heard them say in his ear, “Bucky, baby, it’s me. It’s me.”

 _Steve_. Steve was _here_? He couldn’t be.

Bucky whimpered and rolled away. Whoever it was – it wasn’t Steve, no – let him. He began to crawl again, but the person dragged him back to them. Cold hands framed his face.

“Look at me,” the man said. “Hey, it’s me, Buck. Look.” It looked like Steve. Blond hair, bushy beard, and big, blue eyes that looked so earnest that Bucky wanted to drown in them. Bucky’s breath hitched as he ran a hand through his hair the same way Steve did when they kissed.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice wobbled. It was Steve. How was he here? But that didn’t really matter, did it? He was here. He found him. Bucky sniffled as he fell into Steve’s chest where he finally let himself go and began to cry.

“It’s alright, honey, I got you,” Steve soothed, running his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair and holding him tightly to his chest.

Bucky had never felt safer than here in Steve’s arms. He clutched onto Steve’s jacket and burrowed in even more, breathing in Steve’s familiar scent. He didn’t even know how to describe how much he missed Steve.

“Hey, baby, I’m sorry, but we gotta go,” Steve whispered down at him after a minute. “The fire’ll start attracting more people.”

Bucky pulled back, sniffling, and as Steve wiped his face, he finally noticed how much the fire had grown. He let Steve put away his knife and pull him up to his feet. When Steve fixed his pants for him, he felt himself go into a trance. The grim look on Steve’s face made him want to crawl into a hole, but then he was being pulled to the door and out into the cold again.

People were running around as a bell tolled. Steve’s grip on his hand was tight was he led the way to the edge of town, past numerous dead bodies, and down the road to where a car was hidden amongst some trees.

They climbed into the car and drove away as fast as the snow would allow them. All the while, Bucky sat there, numb.


	7. Salt Lake City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! This is the end! Please enjoy ❤️

Considering Steve’s injuries and Bucky’s ordeal, Steve had made the executive decision to head as far south as they could go to try and reach a place with warmer climate. It didn’t exactly work out that way. The car ran out of gas smack dab in the middle of Colorado, and Steve himself was running on fumes. With no other options in sight, Steve found a lake nearby on the map and they headed there in hopes of shelter. There were several houses clustered together, and he chose the highest one for better sightlines. With a rather solid house and a nearby lake for fish if there was no game, Bucky agreed to ride out the winter there.

Bucky was real quiet for the first couple of weeks. His silence was almost on par with how he acted when Pietro and Wanda died. Seeing how he was the talker of the two and Steve was knocked out for hours during the day recuperating, for him to not talk much during the hours that Steve was awake was worrisome. There were days when he didn’t even want to sleep in the same room as Steve and others when he wouldn’t let him be more than a foot away.

Steve expected him to be idle. However, he was anything but. Bucky took care of his wounds, found shovels for the snow, got an axe for firewood, set traps and checked them every day, and raided the other homes for supplies. Steve was happy to see how independent he had become since Boston, but he didn’t like the heaviness that sat on his shoulders or his blank stare.

On a night when Bucky burrowed into Steve’s side in bed, under four blankets with his head shoved into the crook of his neck, Steve finally felt like it was the right time to ask Bucky what had happened. Steve stayed silent and held Bucky tight as he told his tale, taking time once in a while to run his fingers through his hair and rub a soothing hand up and down his spine. He listened intently as Bucky recounted about what he did in Boulder to when he first met a man named Brock and the downward spiral from there. He sighed when he heard about Chester, glad that, as far as they knew, he had survived, but then he swore and held Bucky a little tighter when he haltingly talked about Pierce, HYDRA, and how Brock tried to rape him twice.

When Bucky was done, Steve kissed the crown of his head and murmured into his hair, “You’re so fucking brave, and strong. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I wish I was. But what you did was just – so fucking amazing. I’m in awe of you right now, Buck. You could’ve walked away at any time, but you didn’t. You _saved_ me.”

Steve’s heart swelled, knowing that Bucky didn’t give up for one second. He fought to protect Steve with everything he had. At the same time though, anger curled in his gut. HYDRA had laid too many hands on Bucky and he wanted nothing more than to lay waste to them again. He was satisfied knowing that Brock was dead, but he worried about Pierce and the size of the town they occupied. They were building up their forces once more, and Steve wondered what would happen when they got strong enough.

“I was just doing what you would’ve done,” Bucky replied, sniffling.

“Nah,” Steve huffed. “I’d have fought back so hard they’d’ve killed me right off. I wouldn’t’ve been worth the hassle. You were smarter, used what they wanted against them. Played the mental game.”

Bucky hummed as rubbed his nose against Steve’s neck, and after some silence, finally asked, “How’d you find me?”

So, Steve told him. He woke up a couple hours after Bucky had gone. The men still hadn’t found him. He nabbed two of them and interrogated them separately for the location of their base before killing them. Then he stole one of the cars and drove as close as he could to the town. “I knew you’d be where the smoke was. Couldn’t imagine you doing anything but raising hell wherever you were.”

“You have too much faith in me,” Bucky snorted.

Steve made a noise of disagreement. “If anything, I don’t think I had enough. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Bucky didn’t automatically get better after their conversation, but he slowly showed signs of acting like himself again. Steve noticed his shoulders ease and he started talking more again.

When it snowed heavily one night, and they spent most of the morning shoveling themselves out with Bucky grumbling with how much he hated it, Steve said, “It’s snow joke.” Bucky stopped and glared at Steve so hard he thought his clothes would catch fire, but when Steve couldn’t stop laughing, Bucky cracked up and broke out into the biggest, most beautiful, smile he’d seen in weeks. Steve couldn’t do anything else but drop his shovel and pull Bucky into a kiss so sweet, he feared he got cavities.

Steve was almost floating on a cloud for the rest of the day. Just from a smile and a laugh. And Bucky seemed to be on the same wavelength, too. The atmosphere reminded him of back when they were crossing South Dakota and Wyoming, light and worry-free. On the walk back from checking the traps, Steve became showered in snow. Realizing he’d just had a snowball thrown at his head, Steve turned slowly to look at Bucky who was grinning as innocently as he could with another snowball in hand.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Steve asked seriously, he could feel the snow sticking to his beard and was sure it belayed his stern tone.

Bucky pretended to think for a mere second before nodding and saying, “Yeah, I think so.” He threw the snowball at Steve, who tried to dodge Bucky’s wicked aim and got hit on the shoulder still. Steve laughed from the sheer absurdness of it all as Bucky ran away and dropped the catch he was carrying to race after him. Steve didn’t know when he last felt joy like this in the last ten years. He tossed snowball after snowball at Bucky, soaking in his laughter and cries of joy when his snowball hit its mark. Steve ended it though when he tackled a giggling Bucky into a pile of fresh snow.

He held onto Bucky as they lay on their sides and their laughter died out. Bucky’s lips were chapped and his cheeks and nose were red. The navy Yellowstone beanie he wore made his gray eyes pop. God, Steve was so in love with him.

Steve brushed the snow away from Bucky’s face and lightly placed his freezing hand on the side of his head. He stared intently at Bucky, trying to remember every second of this moment, but the moment Bucky licked his lips, Steve was gone. He swooped down and captured Bucky’s lips with his own. What started off as light and sweet quickly turned hot and heavy as Bucky licked his way into Steve’s mouth, making him gasp and pull Bucky in tighter.

They kissed until Bucky had to turn his head away to breathe, and even then Steve, unable to get enough, moved to Bucky’s pale throat to kiss, lick, and nibble his way down.

“Steve,” Bucky panted. “Steve, I – I need you. I need you to…”

“Yeah, baby?” Steve answered, his mouth barely moving away from Bucky’s neck to do so. “You need me to what?”

Steve grazed his teeth over Bucky’s pulse point, making him shiver and gasp in his arms. He hid a smile into Bucky’s throat and placed a light kiss there.

“Touch me. _Please_. I need you to touch me. All I feel are their hands on me, and I want them gone. I only want your hands on me,” Bucky pleaded.

At the reminder of what had been done to Bucky, Steve pushed away the anger and hatred he felt toward Pierce and Brock, and focused on Bucky’s needs. He turned Bucky’s head back toward him and placed a firm kiss to his wet lips.

“Whatever you need. Whatever you want,” he said seriously.

They went inside then, and after putting away their catch to deal with later, stoking the fire, and washing their hands with what little soap they had left, Steve took Bucky to bed.

Steve kissed every inch of skin that he revealed when he pulled off Bucky’s clothes. When they were down to their underwear, he shivered when Bucky ran his hands all over Steve’s body like he was trying to memorize it by touch alone. Steve took away the last of their clothing and drank in the sight of Bucky like a man dying of thirst. Bucky was gorgeous from head to toe: a blush that spread from his cheeks to the sparse hair between dark, pebbled nipples, a dipped belly where his thick cock rested, hard and leaking, and a pair of long legs that opened unabashedly for Steve.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Steve breathed, as he ran his hands from Bucky’s chest down to his ankles.

Bucky’s blush deepened. “Shut up,” he grumbled. “You can’t say that when you look like _that_.”

“I can and I will.”

Not needing an invitation, he covered Bucky’s body with his own, pressing their cocks together and making Bucky shudder beautifully. Steve gasped into Bucky’s mouth as he began to thrust and grind his hips. He swallowed Bucky’s moans as he wrapped his legs around Steve and moved in tandem.

Tugging on Bucky’s bottom lip, Steve slowed to a deep grind that had Bucky gripping Steve tight.

“You feel so good,” Steve muttered against Bucky’s lips.

Bucky laughed breathlessly, “Yeah? So do you.”

“Good,” Steve smiled, and ran a hand through Bucky’s hair.

Never stopping the motion of his hips, he watched Bucky’s face screw up in pleasure as their cocks rubbed together and listened to the little hitches in his breath as Steve sped back up again. Bucky’s head tilted back and Steve drove down to mark up the pale skin of his exposed throat. He sucked bruises into the hollow of his throat and dragged his tongue all the way down to his clavicle. He kept going until both sides were red from his beard and bites, Bucky encouraging him by clutching his hair and moaning in his ear.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed into Bucky’s mouth when he was done marking Bucky up. “I wanna suck you, baby. Can I suck you?”

“Oh god, fuck yeah. Please,” Bucky whimpered.

After one last deep kiss to Bucky’s lips, he kissed his way down Bucky’s body. He loved how responsive he was to his touch and wanted to explore and kiss every inch of his body, but he knew Bucky was getting desperate by his heavy breathing and stuttering hips. Steve made time, though, to lap his tongue over Bucky’s nipples and suck on each of them, drawing a quiet whimper from Bucky each time he did so.

When Steve moved further down, dipping his tongue into Bucky’s belly button briefly before moving on, he bypassed Bucky’s cock completely and, instead, kissed and bit at the soft flesh of Bucky’s inner thighs.

He must have lingered there for too long because Bucky was whining, “ _Steve_ ,” while wiggling beneath Steve’s hands, “Steve, please. Touch me, suck me, please.”

Steve threw Bucky’s legs over his shoulder and burrowed his face where thigh met groin to scrape his teeth at the tendon there. “I got you, honey,” Steve murmured. “No need to beg.”

He ran nose up and down Bucky’s erection, taking in his scent and studying the way his cock twitched. Then, he looked up to find Bucky watching him and biting his bottom lip. Steve grinned, cocky, and stuck out his tongue to follow the same path with his tongue, making Bucky whimper. His right hand reached around Bucky’s thigh and lifted his cock away from his belly to bathe the shaft in spit, lick away the precome beaded at the tip, and dip his tongue into the slit there randomly. When Steve was finally done with his teasing, he wrapped his lips around the head and, with eyes on Bucky’s face, sucked hard.

Bucky gasped and arched his back off the bed, tilting his head back. Steve smiled as best he could around the cock in his mouth and went to work. He bobbed his head and lost himself in the motions, in Bucky’s taste. His hand fisted the base while he slurped the tip, wet and messy, and he held Bucky down as he sucked him down to the root, taking him into his throat and burying his nose in Bucky’s dark curls. He had Bucky making so many beautiful noises above him; he was gasping and whimpering Steve’s name as he curled his fingers into Steve’s hair.

“Steve,” Bucky panted. “Oh shit, Steve, I’m gonna – gonna come.”

Steve groaned as Bucky’s cock throbbed in his mouth and pulled off to let his hand leisurely pump Bucky’s cock to slow it down a bit.

“Yeah, baby, I know,” Steve rasped, taking the time to catch his breath and swirl his tongue around Bucky’s tight sac. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

“Oh god,” Bucky whimpered.

Steve made eye contact with Bucky as he took him back into his mouth and slid down his cock again. Bucky babbled and gasped as he watched, his face pinching as he neared the edge. Steve drew his right hand back around Bucky’s leg and, without warning, found and rubbed at Bucky’s hole with two wet fingers. He watched raptly as Bucky’s body froze and jaw dropped in a silent scream. Steve felt Bucky’s cock twitch once, twice, before it pulsed and spilled come into his waiting mouth. A moment later, Bucky finally shouted and sobbed as his body trembled with the force of his orgasm. Steve moaned at the stunning sight, bursting at the seams knowing he was the one to bring Bucky such pleasure. He continued to suck on the tip of Bucky’s cock and held all the bitter come in his mouth. He removed his fingers from Bucky’s hole as his orgasm subsided and, instead, milked the last of his come out to where it belonged.

Steve felt pride as he pulled off Bucky’s cock, his hand collecting any come that he missed, and looked up to see Bucky utterly relaxed and blissed out, catching his breath. And now that he was done, his own aching cock could no longer be ignored. As he moved to kneel between Bucky’s legs, Bucky seemed to come back to the world, smiling dopily up at Steve.

“My turn to suck you off?” Bucky slurred.

Steve smiled before he held his right hand in front of his mouth and spat out all of Bucky’s spunk. Then producing as much of his own spit as he could, spat again to get the last of it out.

“Is that…?” Bucky trailed off, both curious and awed.

Steve licked his lips and tipped his hand to show Bucky the come in his hand. “Yeah,” Steve grinned. Then he brought his wet hand to his cock and began to stroke, spreading the come, spit, and his own precome all over himself. He tilted his head back and sighed as he played with himself, bringing his left hand to lightly tug at his balls. When he got his cock as wet as it was going to get, he looked back down to see Bucky biting his lip as he watched. Steve shivered at the look on his face, like he desperately wanted to swallow Steve whole. He was inclined to let him, but that wasn’t his plan for today.

“You can suck me off next time,” he finally said. “Close your legs, and hold them to your right.”

Bucky did as he was told and Steve grabbed his calves to rest them on his left shoulder. Then he asked Bucky for one of the pillows and shoved it under Bucky’s lower back. He shuffled forward and spread his knees. Then he parted Bucky’s legs and slid his cock as low as he could between them and closed them back up. He sighed at the soft skin enveloping his cock and ground his hips against the back of Bucky’s legs and the curve of his ass.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned. “I can see your cock.”

He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s legs and held them tight to his chest and said, “Squeeze your thighs together tight.”

When Bucky nodded, Steve started slowly thrusting. After a few moments, he sped up, fucking Bucky’s thighs. He closed his eyes and lost himself in his pleasure, taking what he needed from Bucky’s body. His hips and thighs smacked against Bucky, the sound of skin hitting skin becoming the loudest noise in the room over Steve’s grunts and Bucky’s whimpers. Steve dragged it out, slowing his thrusts to a gentle rocking before building up again to a quick fuck.

Some time passed before he noticed Bucky’s brows furrow. “Oh, shit. _Steve_ ,” Bucky moaned as he reached down to take his own cock in hand.

Steve’s eyes narrowed in on where Bucky stroked himself and watched as Bucky’s cock thickened again. “Fuck, you gorgeous thing. You hard again for me?” Steve asked.

“Yes, _yes_.”

Jesus, Bucky was going to be the death of him, he’d gotten hard again just by Steve fucking his thighs.

Steve suddenly leaned forward, placing his hands on the bed next to Bucky’s head and essentially folding Bucky in half. He drove his hips as hard as he could, the new angle letting Steve’s cock brushing against the underside of Bucky’s balls, and fucked Bucky into the bed. Bucky’s free hand held onto Steve’s arm as he bounced from the force of it.

“Oh, fuck yeah, Steve, fuck me,” Bucky urged, moaning. Steve grunted, breath shortening and abs clenching as he kept up the quick pace. He wished he was really fucking Bucky, that he was in the hot clutch of his body, and that he could feel Bucky’s hole tremble and tighten around him when he came.

“I want you – to come for me,” Steve panted. “Make a mess. Wanna watch you.”

In response, Bucky’s hand flew over his cock, twisting at the head. Steve could watch him jack off all day. He needed to come badly, but he wanted to watch Bucky let go first. So, he slowed his thrusting a bit and leaned on his left hand to lick his right thumb. He brought it down to Bucky’s left nipple to rub and pinch at it and Bucky cried out.

“Come for me, baby,” Steve breathed, eyes intent on Bucky’s face.

Steve watched as Bucky’s jaw dropped and face screw up in ecstasy as he gasped, “ _Steve_.” Steve kept Bucky’s legs closed tight as his cock shot out ropes of come onto his belly. Steve moved his hand back to the bed and began fucking Bucky’s thighs as hard as he could, chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me,” Steve groaned. “Fucking perfect.”

“Steve, give me your come,” Bucky whined and tightened his legs even more. “I want you to come all over me.”

“Oh god, Bucky.” A few thrusts later, Steve’s eyes closed momentarily as he tipped over the edge. He ground his cock between Bucky’s thighs as he began to come, making little abortive thrust as pleasure rocked him from his head to his toes, almost seeing stars. He opened his eyes just in time to see some of his come streak all over Bucky’s spent cock and balls before it dripped down between his thighs.

When Steve was done, he flopped down on the bed beside Bucky and immediately drew him into a deep and sloppy kiss. His tongue twisted lazily around Bucky’s and traced the roof of his mouth. After a minute or so of languidly kissing, he pulled back and said, “That was amazing. _You_ were so amazing, and gorgeous.” He peppered kisses up and down Bucky’s neck, noting the hickies already forming there.

Bucky hummed. “You were pretty amazing there, too. Don’t think I’ve ever come that hard, or twice.”

Steve chuckled and captured Bucky’s lips in a much more chaste kiss. “Flatterer.”

“Just telling the truth,” he replied with a smile. Then it slipped away. “Thank you.”

It was Steve’s turn to smile as he pulled Bucky into his chest. “Whatever you want, Bucky. All you have to do it ask.”

Steve let them bask in the afterglow for a few minutes before he got up for a wet towel to wipe Bucky down with. They spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, napping for a bit before talking quietly and trading lazy kisses until nightfall and dinner had to be made.

The rest of the time spent at the house was like living in a dream. He had everything he wanted there, a man he loved and was pretty sure loved him back, and the bare necessities for living. So, Steve took advantage of the time they had together there in their winter wonderland, and Bucky, it seemed, did too. They spent their time playing games, lying together in silence, talking, and touching each other until they were wrung out. Each day brought something new, and he learned more and more about Bucky each day.

A few weeks after they first fucked and when Steve stripped down to his underwear to get ready for bed, Bucky had shoved Steve down into a dining chair and straddled his legs so fast his head spun.

Steve had grinned up at him as he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and teased, “You need something, honey?”

“Yeah, I do. What month do you think it is?” Bucky asked with a sly smile.

“Probably March. Why?”

“Well, my birthday’s March tenth, and I seemed to have missed a present from you. I heard twenty-one’s a pretty special one.”

Steve was surprised that didn’t know when Bucky’s birthday was, but it made sense, with no real calendar to track the days, people tended to only track the years and the seasons. With the disappearance of the days, holidays and anniversaries had disappeared along with them.

“It is, and I seemed to have misplaced all the alcohol. What can I get you instead?” Steve played along.

“Well, that mouth of yours seems like it hasn’t been put to good use recently, so you can start off with a kiss and then take me apart with that tongue of yours. What do you say?” Bucky asked as if Steve didn’t do that almost every other day.

“I think that can be arranged.” Steve grinned and lightly clapped Bucky on the ass with both hands before massaging the flesh there, loving the way Bucky gasped and swiveled his hips. Gripping Bucky by the back of his thighs, Steve picked him up, earning a slight shriek in response, walked him over to the bed. He then proceeded to kiss Bucky until they were breathless, and used his mouth on him until he couldn’t move.

It would be so easy to say fuck the world and live out the rest of their days there, lost in each other. Steve would do it in a heartbeat if Bucky asked, but he knew that Bucky wanted to see this mission through. So, when the snow slowed down and the weather warmed up slightly, they began prepping for departure, making food rations and saving up as much water as they could carry.

At one point, when they were sorting out their bags, he was mindlessly folding up his clothes when he noticed Bucky standing next to him. In his hands was his mother’s book. He looked nervous as he opened it and took out a photo. He handed it over to Steve and Steve realized why he looked that way. It was a photo of himself, Peggy, and Sarah, one that he recognized had been displayed at Peggy’s parent’s house. He barely recognized himself, but he remembered the green sweater he wore itched, and that Sarah fought like hell against her white Christmas dress before resigning herself to her fate. The memory brought a smile to his face and he swallowed back tears.

“Sorry I didn’t give it to you earlier,” Bucky said softly. “Never seemed like a good time and then the whole HYDRA thing happened, so I kinda forgot about it until now. Peggy said she thought you’d never take it if she tried to give it to you.”

Steve cleared his throat. “It’s all right. She was probably right, I’d’ve rather she had it. It hurts to think about her, but I know that’ll never change. Thank you for showing me.”

Steve felt Bucky’s hand rubbing his lower back and his cheek pressing against his shoulder. He leaned over and placed a kiss on his head. Then, he handed the photo back to Bucky and said, “Keep it safe for me, hmm?”

“You bet,” Bucky replied, slipping it back between the pages and snapping the book shut.

A few days later, they shut the front door behind them for the last time and began walking to Salt Lake City.

*

The journey was like it was before Yellowstone, with time spent planning each day carefully, clearing houses of infected, and walking until their feet ached. They got to Salt Lake City in good time, in the middle of spring, with only a few delays due to heavy rain.

This city was just like all the others: run down, broken to pieces, and taken over by foliage wherever it could grow, even though it wasn’t a lot in comparison to the others. They entered the city from the east and headed south for a bit on the freeway before exiting, following the signs for the hospital and, coincidentally, an evacuation zone.

Steve was on his guard the whole way, waiting for HYDRA to pop out again, but, for a few a few stray infected, the walk along the main road was uneventful until they got to the evacuation point. A high gate with barbed wire on top blocked the entire road. They could turn around and get on a side street to find a way around it, but that would eat up extra time to their day. The fastest way would be through, so they climbed on top of a bus that had stalled against the gate and jumped over it.

The evacuation zone was held at the high school to the left, and outside the entrance were two abandoned police cars, rusted steel barriers for crowd control, and cement blockades. The other sides of the high fences on the other of the road had nothing below it to climb on, leaving them with the only option of going through the school. They stood and stared at it for a moment, remembering the last time they were in a high school.

“Do you think this one’s full of infected, too?” Bucky asked.

Steve sighed. “Let’s hope not.”

The front doors were propped open and led to a large atrium. There were piles of discarded clothes, trash, and luggage strewn around the edges of the room. And at the far end, there were fences to help coral the public into the safety zone in an orderly fashion.

Steve could immediately spot the issues. First, most of the tall stairway leading to the second floor had crumbled away, as though a bomb had gone off there, leaving a gap too large to jump up to. Second, the fences were all collapsed against the remaining exits and barricaded with luggage. A breach with infected must have occurred at some point on the opposite side of it.

After studying the lay of the land, Steve suggested, “If I can boost you up to the stairs, we might be able to get me up there too, if we find something that I can climb up with.”

Bucky nodded and they split up to search for anything of use. Steve scoured the piles of trash and luggage and came up with nothing. He sighed and looked at the staircase. He could try to bounce off the wall, but the run up to the overhang was covered with uneven rubble, he’d probably break his ankle running over that before getting to the wall.

“Steve!” Bucky called from across the room. Steve spun around to find Bucky hauling a collapsed folded up table from beneath a pile of luggage. “Will this work?”

Steve jogged over and inspected the table. Although it didn’t look too sturdy, it looked to be in good shape still, so Steve said, “I think so. We should see if it’ll hold my weight first, though.” He turned it onto its top and began working the legs on his side into place as Bucky did the same on the other side. When they were done, they put it right side up and Steve tested how much weight it could withstand by climbing on top. The table creaked and bowed, but it held when he jumped off.

They moved the table underneath the hanging stairs and had to work to get it settled in the uneven rubble. Bucky climbed on top as Steve stood to the side and made a cradle with his hands on his shoulder. Just like the many times before, Bucky stepped up into the cradle and together they easily boosted him up onto the staircase. Steve watched as he crawled up and disappeared from sight.

“Looks clear for now,” he heard Bucky call back. Getting the all clear, Steve began climbing up onto the table. That’s when he heard Bucky mutter, “Holy shit,” and start jogging away.

“Buck?” Steve called, but received no response. Worried, Steve jumped, grasped onto the ledge of the stairs, and quickly pulled himself up.

Steve saw Bucky in the closest classroom on the right staring out the window and to the left. He spun around with bright eyes and a large grin on his face. He ran out of the classroom to dart down the hallway. As he ran, he beckoned Steve and called, “C’mon, you gotta see this!”

Steve ran after Bucky, a bit annoyed that he would just run off without checking for infected or other people. But he could see a shadow of something outside and whatever it was, it was enough to have Bucky grinning like mad, and Steve’s annoyance melted away from the sheer delight on his face.

Eventually, Bucky came to a standstill outside one of the classrooms and stared into it with awe. Steve came to stand beside him and finally saw what Bucky was chasing.

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered, echoing Bucky from earlier.

The classroom’s far wall was blown out, exposing it to the elements. Ivy and plants had climbed up the walls and spilled into the classroom. A _giraffe_ was pulling at the leaves hanging from the ceiling, uncaring of the two people staring at it not too far away.

Steve was stunned. With all the other things happening in the world, he never gave much thought to the animals trapped in zoos, but someone here must have released them. The fact that they’ve survived so long in this environment though was astounding.

Steve inched forward, moving slowly as to not spook the giraffe, and it continued to eat the closer Steve got.

“Steve,” Bucky whisper shouted behind him. “Don’t scare it.”

“I won’t,” Steve replied as he got close enough to the giraffe to make out the details of its face and the hair on its horns. He reached out a hand and placed it gently on the giraffe’s neck. The fur was thick, but smooth as he petted it.

“Come here,” Steve said as he waived an arm behind him, and a moment later, Bucky was hesitantly standing beside him. Steve pulled away and urged Bucky to take his place. He smiled gently as Bucky slowly reached forward and began petting the giraffe with a look of wonder.

“Oh my god, hi,” Bucky said under his breath to the giraffe. The sight was heartwarming; Bucky always brought a sense of joy and innocence to the world whenever he encountered something new. He watched with a pleased smile as Bucky ran his fingers through the giraffe’s fur and glance over his shoulder at Steve to give him a ‘can you believe this’ look.

The giraffe allowed it for almost a minute before it was pulling back and walking away. It was then that Steve noticed a handful of other giraffes down the road, and they watched as the giraffe joined the others to continue moving down the street.

“Oh man, that was crazy,” Bucky said to Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “I’ve never pet a giraffe before.”

“And I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“Didn’t think that would ever happen after you left Boston, did you?”

“Not in a million years,” Bucky replied with a smile that slowly slipped off his face. He turned his head away and tried to put a smile back on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, concerned.

Bucky shook his head and sighed. “It’s just…we’re almost at the hospital, and if SHIELD’s there this time…I can’t help but feel it’s the end of the line.”

“It won’t be. Not for us,” Steve said, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder. Then, he added selfishly, “But, we don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. We can turn back around and go back to Yellowstone or Boston or wherever you wanna go. Forget about SHIELD.”

Bucky scoffed and Steve knew what he was going to say before he did. “After all we went through to get here? It has to mean something. I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t try everything possible to get a cure.”

Steve smiled despondently and caressed Bucky’s jaw. “You’re a better man than me, Bucky Barnes,” he said, and after a pause, feeling that the time was right, confessed, “And I love you for it.”

Bucky stilled and looked up at Steve with wide eyes. “What?” he practically croaked. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Steve replied with a huff as his cheeks heated up. “You’re everything to me. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

A bright smile bloomed on Bucky’s face, and it loosened a little knot inside Steve that feared rejection, or that Bucky wasn’t ready to hear it.

“It’s the same for me. I love you, too,” Bucky finally said. Then he laughed and Steve let himself be tugged down into a deep kiss that he poured his loved and adoration into, feeling like he was busting at the seams with it. His hands framed Bucky’s face as he pressed kiss after kiss to those pink lips.

When they finally pulled away, Steve kept his forehead against Bucky’s, not willing to part until he had to. His thumbs lightly brushed back and forth over Bucky’s cheeks as they breathed each other’s air.

“We’re in this together, right?” Bucky asked.

“Wherever you are, I’m there,” Steve replied.

*

Steve anticipated a welcoming party, but not to this degree. They were less than a block away from the hospital when bullets sprayed across the road in front of their feet, halting them in their tracks.

“Don’t move! Hands on your head!”

“Steve?” Bucky said lowly, asking him what to do.

Steve spied handfuls of men streaming out from behind the houses on both sides of them. They could take them if they wanted, hide amongst the cars and pick them off one by one, but Steve noticed the black uniformity of their clothes and the bullet proof vests, signaling them as SHIELD.

He nodded to Bucky and put his hands on his head.

The SHIELD agents surrounded them. Steve scanned their faces and didn’t recognize a single one of them. Men came up behind them and began stripping them of their weapons and gear, but the man who checked him was sloppy and missed the knife strapped to his ankle. They continued to stand there with their hands on their heads.

One of the men stepped forward and asked, “What’s your business here?”

“We heard SHIELD was at the hospital. We’re looking for Fury,” Steve replied.

“Is that right?”

When the man didn’t say anything further, Steve raised a brow and tilted his head up a bit. “Call it in. Tell him Rogers’ got a delivery for him. He’ll know what it means.”

The man eyed him for a second before turning and walking away. Steve was relieved when he saw him reaching for a radio on his belt. It was only a couple of minutes later before the man in charge was signaling to the others to move.

“Bring ‘em in. Fury wants to see ‘em.”

After being jabbed in the back, Steve and Bucky started walking, following him while being surrounded by a handful of others. The rest of the group slipped away back to where they came from amid the houses.

They walked in silence toward the hospital. Steve was anxious to meet up with Fury and quit getting treated like an enemy in need of a full-on escort. Lost in thought, he barely noticed something touching his hand. The second time it happened though, he realized it was Bucky brushing his fingers up against his. When he glanced over, he saw Bucky’s look of concern, but unable to explain in current company, Steve merely shook his head. He made sure to keep his hand where Bucky could reach it, though, taking security from the minor brushes of his hand the further they went.

The hospital came into view shortly and, as they drew near, a few SHIELD agents could be seen guarding the front entrance. They were escorted through the front entrance and up a set of stairs to one of the wards.

“Alright, big guy in here,” the man in charge said, motioning to the hospital room they were next to. “Put the kid down in twelve.”

“Wait a second,” Steve said before he was shoved backward toward the room and Bucky was being manhandled down the hall.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted as he struggled against the hands pulling him away, throwing punches and elbows.

“Where are you taking him?!” Steve protested and barreled after him, punching one agent in the face to get him out of the way. He didn’t get far before his brain was rattling in his head. Belatedly, as he fell to his knees, he realized that he’d been struck on the back of the head. He could only watch with blurry eyes as Bucky got dragged out of sight.

Steve’s body was moving without his control, hauled to his feet and half carried into the hospital room. He was dumped unceremoniously onto the dirty hospital bed and the door slammed shut right after. Turning onto his back, the ceiling swirled above him. His eyes slipped closed to fight back the growing nausea.

Time passed slowly, quickly, and not at all. Muffled voices and footsteps could be heard every now and then outside the door. The nausea receded and the room stopped spinning. Impatience grew in its place. He prepared himself to see what the holdup was, as darkness had already begun to creep in through the window, and got as far as sitting up when the door swung open.

Fury stood in the threshold of the door, black leather trench coat and all.

“Nice of you to stop by,” Steve greeted.

Fury finally stepped inside and sat in the visitor’s chair. A SHIELD agent followed him in and stood next to the doorway.

“You know, when they said Rogers had a delivery for me, I almost didn’t believe it,” Fury said. “Because from what I can recall, you didn’t even want to take James out of Boston. You wanted nothing to do with SHIELD anymore.”

“I don’t.”

“So, you came all this way out of the goodness of your heart?”

“No,” Steve said firmly. “Some dear people around me gave me advice, and what d’ya know? I listened to them. Something like that doesn’t sound familiar to you, does it?”

Fury tilted his head, and Steve knew he hit a nerve like he intended.

“I’m not here to fight with you, Steve.”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah? Then don’t be such an dick, we just traveled across the whole damn country to get here.”

“I know,” Fury conceded. “I lost a lot of good people doing just that. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that you, of all people, could do that on your own. You were always made of sterner stuff.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Steve saw a man of average height with dark blond, almost red hair smiling genially. His clothes were on the nicer side, second hand, but well cared for. It was a sign of someone who sat comfortably at the top and didn’t get their hands dirty.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the man said. “Just wanted to stop by on my way up and say thank you to the man who brought James in.” The man advanced toward Steve with his hand outstretched. “I’m Alexander.”

Steve eyed the hand for a moment – the fingernails were even clean – before shaking it. “Steve.”

“Nice to meet you.” Steve merely pursed his lips and nodded in return. Alex didn’t seem bothered by it though and turned to Fury. “I’m headed on up to check on Zola and make sure everything is running smooth for the procedure.”

Fury nodded and said, “Last I checked, he was almost ready to begin.”

“Splendid,” Alex grinned. “I’ll leave you two to it. Again, thank you, Steve. It was great meeting you.”

Steve nodded and Alex left with his own group of guards.

“Is James upstairs now?” Steve asked. “I wanna see him.”

Fury sighed and stood up. “I’m afraid you can’t.”

Steve’s spine straightened. “Why the hell not?”

“He’s being prepped for surgery, you can –”

“Surgery? What that fuck do you need surgery for?” Steve’s concern was mounting. They split them up. They took Bucky for a procedure without even letting them speak to each other.

Fury sighed as Steve slipped off the bed and onto his feet. “The doctors took a scan of James. The Cordyceps growth inside him mutated and that mutation is what makes him immune. When they remove it, they’ll be able to create a vaccine.”

Steve’s brow furrowed and his shoulders tightened. Something wasn’t right here. “But the fungus grows all over the brain…He’ll _die_.”

“I know. We’ll let you see him for a moment before they’re ready to start,” Fury replied in the gentlest voice Steve had ever heard from the man.

There were too many thoughts flying through Steve’s mind. All he knew was that Bucky was sacrificing himself to a cause that didn’t deserve him or his kind and gentle heart. Besides, who knew if they really could create a vaccine once they removed the growth? What if having it only led to more failed experiments and cures? Bucky would have died for nothing.

“You shouldn’t trade lives,” Steve managed to finally say once his head and mouth reconnected. “Let me see him.” He went to get in Fury’s face, but was kicked hard in the thigh by the SHIELD agent and he fell hard to the ground instead.

“I can see you’ve grown to care for him,” Fury said above him. “But Pierce and I discussed it, and I discussed it with James. We all agree it’s worth the greater good.”

Steve knelt on the ground and huffed. He then glared up at Fury. “Does that make you sleep better at night?”

Fury stared unflinchingly back at Steve. “I changed my mind. Maybe it’s best if you don’t see him before he goes under.”

Steve made to stand, anger simmering under his skin, but the click of a gun held Steve back. The SHIELD agent stood to the left of Steve, with his gun trained on him.

Fury raised a hand to tell the agent to wait and said, “March him out and make sure he doesn’t get back in.” Fury then turned to Steve saying, “I’m sorry it had to be this way, but I can’t risk you messing this up for us.” He left then, his coat billowing behind him as a he walked away.

Steve could only think about his next move. How could he get to Bucky? The place was bound to be packed with SHIELD agents.

“Get up,” the SHIELD agent ordered.

If he could even get up to the higher levels, Steve didn’t even know where Bucky was.

Steve’s head snapped to the side and his hands shot out to prevent himself collapsing fully onto the ground. Pain blossomed on the side of his face.

“I said, get up,” the agent repeated.

The shifting of his leg reminded him of the knife strapped to his ankle. Slowly, he reached down, out of sight of the agent, with his right hand and extracted the knife. He hid it behind his arm as he got to his feet.

“Good,” the agent said with his gun raised, “now walk.”

Steve took a step forward, keeping an eye on the gun in his peripherals. When he got close enough, his left hand shot out to the gun. He wrapped his hand around it to keep the muzzle away from him and, with a grunt, rammed the agent into the wall. The agent set off two gunshots during the struggle and wrestled to get control, but Steve flipped the knife in his hand and drove it into the man’s belly twice. The shock of the stabbing loosened the agent’s hold on the gun, and Steve easily slipped it to the floor.

“Where’s the operating room?” Steve interrogated. He didn’t reply, so Steve stabbed him again and twisted the knife. “Where is it?”

“T-top floor,” the agent gasped. “No-rth.”

Steve took out the knife and sliced open the man’s neck.

Perfect, he had a location. He just needed to find the way up. Steve checked the corridor and found it empty but for a few floodlights. He was relieved when he noticed his weapons and gear sitting at the nurses’ station across the way. He ran over and began strapping everything on.

Almost fully geared up, he heard too many footsteps headed his way. He cursed internally, the gunshots alerted them. He would’ve been more surprised if they hadn’t, but it would have been a welcome one. Steve ducked into the nearest hospital room and hid inside the small bathroom there.

“Fuck, he got Abelman,” he heard one of the men say.

“Blood’s still running, he’s gotta be close by,” said another. “Fan out, search all the rooms.”

Steve inhaled and exhaled slowly. He was going to have to fight his way out. The dark gave him some cover, but not much due to the floodlights. He could be patient and wait them out, let them come to him, but he couldn’t linger too long; Bucky’s procedure could start any second.

Light footsteps nearby alerted him. He took his largest tactical knife in hand and waited. The steps went into the room and paused, and then they drew closer to the bathroom.

A man swung into the room to check Steve’s hiding spot, gun first. In one smooth move, he grabbed the hands holding the gun, pushed them to point away, and punched the agent in the face. It propelled him into the wall and Steve followed after him, pinning the hands against the wall with his weight. Steve blocked a kick and stabbed the man’s wrist. He grunted and twisted to struggle out of Steve’s hold, further exposing his side. Steve stuck the knife in, drawing a shocked cry, and quickly slid it as far as it could go along the man’s stomach.

An elbow to the head knocked Steve back and his knife along with it. The man took his bleeding hand to his wound and the other brought the gun back into play. He was weak though. Steve easily batted the arm away and stabbed him in the throat. The man stilled as he tried to breathe, and Steve took his gun away and eased his body behind the toilet. He found the gun to be useless so he placed it beside the man and left.

Steve tip-toed out into the main room and peered out. He saw two men on the opposite side of the nurse’s station and one enter a room on the far side. On his right, a man exited the room two doors down and went into the last room in the ward. At a crouch, Steve ran into the second room.

Ears open, he listened as the man came out and start walking back in Steve’s direction. When he passed, Steve leapt out of the room and latched himself onto the man’s back. His left arm slipped tightly around his neck, choking him, and knifed him in the lower back. He pulled him back into the room with all his might. The man thrashed and as his left-hand beat at Steve’s arm, the other unsuccessfully tried to get his gun pointed behind him. When they were fully in, Steve punctured him twice more before changing it up and stabbing the man in the femoral artery. The choking muffled the man’s scream. As the body went limp, Steve dragged him to the far side of the room and hid him behind the hospital bed.

As Steve made to leave the room, he saw a medical tray and an idea struck him. He grabbed the tray and knelt in the doorway. Waiting for the right moment, when they men weren’t paying attention, he tossed the tray into the nurse’s station. It clattered loudly to the floor. Steve hid in the shadows of the room as the three men enclosed in on the area.

When they surrounded around the desk, Steve grabbed his gun and hid partially behind the wall. As the men stood there in confusion, Steve opened fire, going from nearest to furthest. The first man died instantly, receiving a headshot wound. The second, Steve got in the shoulder, then the neck. The third had fired back and ducked out of sight by the time Steve was done.

In the quiet, Steve ducked down and crawled out of the room. He began crouch-walking down the hallway toward the exit, hoping he could either leave without notice or catch the last man on the way out. A noise behind him had Steve jumping into a room and pointing his gun down the hallway. Nothing appeared, but just as he was about to crouch back down and leave, the last man leaned halfway out from one of the rooms and began firing at Steve. He pulled back and waited for a break in the hail of bullets. When that break came, he exited, gun first and quietly dashed into the room next door to the other man’s. He hung halfway out of the room, gun ready. The man leaned out again, gun first, and Steve fired three times at his arm. One of the bullets struck the man’s forearm, causing him to cry out, drop the gun, and disappear back into the room. Steve did not let up, he rushed into the next to finish the job, shot this man in the head, too.

With all of them down, Steve ran down the hallway they came in, following the floodlights. When he approached a set of double doors, he heard thundering footsteps and flashlights glinting in the windows. He slipped into a nearby room and hid.

Steve estimated that ten ran by. And as they did, he heard one say, “Remember, Pierce wants this guy dead. Don’t hold back.”

The name Pierce stopped him, and he abruptly remembered that Fury mentioned a Pierce as well. Bucky never described the man to him, but what were the odds of a man named Pierce positioned so high up in both HYDRA and SHIELD? He thought back to when Peggy said that SHIELD was resistant to her changes. Peggy, indisputable the leader, was unable to make changes to her creation. Yes, Nick was almost of equal rank, but Peggy was running the show, for her to be pushed out of her own organization was a coup. Was it HYDRA? And if so, how did deep did the poison go?

With no more time to dwell over it, Steve ran. The hallway opened up into a waiting room. He saw an emergency exit sign for the stairs. As he ran toward it, the doors burst open. Steve shot and killed the agent that came running out on instinct. The gun clicked empty so he changed the magazine and as he ran by the agent noticed he had an AK-47. Steve slowed and holstered his weapon to pick the rifle up. The gun was fully loaded and, after searching the body, he found an extra magazine that he slipped into his belt.

He sprinted up to the highest level and toward the north wing, following the floodlights until he got to the surgery wing entrance. The doors were propped open and there was movement inside, so he pressed himself against the wall next to them and scoped the wing out. There was a short hallway with a doorway to a large inpatient area where he spotted the movement. He spied a few piles of containers and crates scattered inside. And there was a set of doors barricaded shut at the end of the hallway, leaving the inpatient area the only way through.

Steeling himself, Steve prepared to shoot his way through. Cocking his gun, he slipped over to the next entrance and took a deep breath. Bucky was just beyond here, he could feel it. If he didn’t survive this, then Bucky didn’t survive either. He’d have to fight like hell to make it through.

Steve’s surprise attack worked to his benefit for a few moments. As he entered the area, he shot down the man closest to him, and then the next, before they even knew he was there. He dropped down behind some containers as guns began firing in his direction and the shouting began. Before he took cover, he spotted around ten men in total, all heavily armed. Some milled around the main space, and others were camped out in the handful of separate rooms.

He crawled to the end of the containers. Staying low, he swayed out and saw an agent sneaking closer. _Not today, asshole,_ he thought viciously, and happily provided a shot to the head for his attempt.

A few feet ahead, Steve spotted another place for cover behind some crates, next to the first room. He popped up and as he ran for it, he shot wildly into the first room he passed, luckily hitting the agent taking cover in there. Bullets tore by him as he slid to the floor. There were about six left, by his estimate, most of them were behind some containers on the far end of the room, and maybe two in the rooms still.

He was about to look for his next move when he noticed something wonderful attached to the last agent’s waist. Steve crawled over and liberated the grenade with some triumph. Crawling back, he peeked over the crate to gauge the distance, drawing some gunfire. He pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it over to the far side.

“Grenade!” one man shouted.

As soon as the grenade rocked the floor, Steve was up on his feet and advancing. A man rushed out from a room, and Steve shot him in the neck. A second appeared in the doorway of another and he shot him in the face.

One of the men at the end was still moving, he sluggishly propped himself up above the container, and Steve shot him back down. Movement in the corner of his eye had Steve jumping backward and dodging shots to get back under cover.

An agent was hidden behind the wall in the last room. He had the advantage of better cover, but Steve wondered how thick the wall really was. Deciding to test it, Steve fired multiple rounds where he thought the man was standing. After a moment, Steve heard the satisfying sound of a body dropping to the ground.

Steve sprinted through a set of double doors and ran down the hallway on the other side. He passed by empty offices and rooms toward a lit-up door at the end. If his heart wasn’t already pounding from adrenaline, it’d would be now. He was so close, he could taste it.

When he sailed past the door and into operating dressing room, he could hear Bucky shout. He was almost tempted to stop and weep, but he knew there was no time.

Steve burst into the operating room.

A woman held a mask over Bucky’s face and counted, “Ninety-seven, ninety-six.” She was the first to go. The next was a squat man shouting, “You can’t be in here!” The last person in the room was a woman cowering in the corner.

“Get out of here,” Steve ordered and she quickly escaped through a second door.

Steve looped the gun strap over his head and rushed over to Bucky who was dressed a patient’s gown and strapped down. He knocked off the mask and started ripping off the restraints. Once he was no longer tied down, Steve started forcefully tapping Bucky’s face.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed. “Bucky, baby, I need you to wake up. Let me see those pretty eyes. C’mon.” Bucky groaned and shook his head. “There we go, c’mon. Wake up.”

Bucky blinked lethargically as his eyes tried to focus. “St’ve?” Bucky slurred, a lazy smile appearing on his face. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I know. C’mon, we gotta go,” Steve said urgently as he tugged Bucky up to sitting position. Bucky swayed where he sat.

“St’ve. HY’RA. SHEIL’S HY’RA,” Bucky mumbled.

“I know, I know, let’s go,” Steve replied, pulling Bucky’s right arm over his shoulders and tugging him off the operating table.

Steve half-carried him back through the door he entered through, and, on the way, noticed Bucky’s belongings sitting on a table near the door. He remembered the photos, and Clint’s bow; he couldn’t bear to leave them behind. Cursing, he propped Bucky up against the wall. He slipped the weapons over Bucky’s shoulders and the shoes onto his feet and only tightened the strings. Everything else went into the backpack Steve threw over his left shoulder before taking on Bucky’s weight on again.

Steve ran as fast as Bucky could go down the hallway, past the dead bodies and toward the stairs. He muttered encouragements to Bucky as they ran. When he heard the pounding of feet in the stairwell, he backed away and took Bucky down a different hallway. Steve felt their escape slipping through his grasp. He didn’t know where to go, or how to get out.

Salvation came, though, when he heard the dinging of an elevator nearby. He hurried toward the sound, and as he turned the corner, saw two agents stepping out of it. They were surprised to see him, and Steve didn’t give them time to lift their guns before he mowed them down.

He lifted Bucky over the bodies and caught the elevator just before it closed. After setting Bucky against the side wall, he jabbed the button for the first floor repeatedly. Bullets pinged in the elevator, and voices and footsteps rumbled. He held out an arm to keep Bucky back against the wall as he continued to jab at the button, cursing that the doors weren’t closing. When it finally began to close a second later, slowly, Steve watched in agony, willing them to close faster. Relief didn’t set in until the doors sealed and the elevator began to lower. A thud on the other side told him they’d just made it.

Steve closed his eyes and panted. That was too fucking close.

“Bleedin’,” Bucky mumbled, pulling Steve out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Steve said, softly.

Bucky, a little more lucid than before, poked Steve in the arm. “Blood.”

Steve looked down at his arm. Blood stained his shirt where a bullet grazed his bicep. “Yeah, got lucky.” He looked at Bucky, then, alive and blinking owlishly. There was nothing Steve wanted more than to wrap his arms around him and never let go, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. Not until they were far away from this hospital. So, Steve settled for grasping Bucky by the back of the neck and pulling him close enough to press a kiss to his temple.

The elevator slowed to a stop. Steve reached for Bucky’s arm, but Bucky waved him away and held onto his elbow. When the doors opened, Steve pushed the emergency stop button and looked outside, rifle ready. The floor was clear, and there was an open exit within throwing distance. Steve hustled Bucky out of the elevator and toward the exit.

From inside, Steve was surprised to see various SHIELD vehicles sitting unguarded in the parking lot outside. He didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, so he went for the closest one.

He didn’t get more than five steps outside when he heard, “And what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Steve stuttered to a stop and whirled to the right, raising his rifle as he went. He made sure to keep Bucky behind him as Fury materialized out from the dark, and, a step behind him, Pierce appeared, too, each with a gun in hand. Steve slowly moved his aim from Fury to Pierce.

“Steve,” Bucky said softly from behind Steve, his voice shaking, “It’s him. That’s Pierce.”

“I know,” Steve replied. Then, to Fury said, “I thought that was a bit obvious with the whole rescue thing.”

“I thought you were smarter than this, Rogers,” Fury said, as if he was talking to a small child. “The world needs a cure, and we have it. James already agreed that this was the right thing to do.”

“Fuck that, Nick,” Bucky growled, stepping to the left, and out from behind Steve. “I’m not giving myself up to HYDRA.”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about? HYDRA’s gone.”

Steve huffed. “Why do you think Peggy left her own organization? How come nothing changed after I left? SHIELD’s been infected for a long time, and you didn’t even know it. You can’t even tell when it’s standing right beside you.”

Fury stared, and then stared some more. His eye flicked to Steve’s gun and finally seemed to notice who he was pointing it at.

“I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are,” Pierce said, idly.

“Yeah,” Bucky scowled. “I think he is. You touch me again, asshole, and I’ll break your fingers.”

“What the fuck are they talking about, Pierce?” Fury demanded, his gun lowering slightly.

Pierce suddenly slid behind Fury and put his gun up to his head. Fury froze and his jaw tightened.

“Drop the gun,” Pierce ordered, and Fury dropped it before holding his arms out a little. “Good. You know, I was going to wait a little bit longer to kill you because, despite what you think, you’d fit in at HYDRA beautifully, Nick. Cold, ruthless – you make tough decisions and do what needs to be done.”

“I do what I do to _help_ people.”

“And so do we,” Pierce replied. “We have the same enemy: the infected. We protect the people by keeping them in the zones where they’ll stay alive. We’re willing to sacrifice the one to save the many. Just like SHIELD.”

“SHIELD will never be HYDRA.”

Pierce laughed lightly. “It already is.” He paused for a second before moving a bit to his left so that Steve could see him now. “Now, James, go back inside or else I’ll kill him.”

“Bucky,” Steve said. “Don’t move.” His gun was trained on Pierce, but Fury was still too much in the way for Steve to get a clear shot. Steve’s feelings toward Fury were not very charitable right now, but he hadn’t done anything

Bucky looked from Steve to Fury and back. Then he shook his head and said softly, “It’s okay, Steve.” Bucky took a step behind Steve and began to walk around him. Steve felt a tug at his belt and realized Bucky took his gun. “Buck, don’t do this.”

Steve was torn between dragging Bucky back behind him and keeping his gun trained on Pierce. He didn’t know what Bucky had planned for the gun, but he had to trust him. He had to believe that Bucky was making the right choice.

So, Steve watched Bucky begin to walk back toward the hospital before turning his eyes back on Pierce who was also watching Bucky. Fury was muttering things to Pierce. What he said must have provoked him, though, because he turned his head away from Bucky, and the moment he did, a gunshot rang out. Pierce’s head tilted to the side and he slumped down to the ground.

Bucky stood with his arm outstretched, unmoving, then, he slumped, as if all his strings were cut. He turned slowly and stumbled back to Steve. Steve’s body uncoiled as Bucky fell into his chest. He wrapped his arms tight around Bucky and buried his face in his hair. This is what he needed all night.

“C’mon,” Steve muttered into his hair, “let’s get out of here.”

Steve pulled back and nudged Bucky in the direction of the closest truck.

“Rogers,” Fury said. Steve sighed heavily. He just wanted to leave. Leave and never come back to Salt Lake City again.

“What?” Steve asked shortly. He turned to face Fury who was standing over Pierce’s body. Bucky hadn’t moved from his side yet.

“Just, thanks,” he said. “You too, James.” Bucky nodded in his peripherals, but Steve just stared, knowing there was more. “James is still the key to a vaccine, you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, “and all the people you know are HYDRA. What d’you think’ll happen if they get their hands on it?” He paused, and said, “They get the power to choose between who lives and who dies, just like they do now. And nothing’ll change.” He nudged Bucky back toward the car again. “So, we’re gonna leave – and if we can make a vaccine, we will. But for now, you need to clean house. And you’ll shut SHIELD down, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I’m not shutting SHIELD down,” Fury argued.

“When something’s infected, you kill it. So kill it.” Steve said firmly. Then without another word he turned around and headed to the driver’s side of the truck. The door was unlocked and before he got in, he tossed his gear into the backseat.

When he settled into the car, Bucky already had his seatbelt on. Keys were on the dash, and as he turned the ignition, he looked at Fury. Their eyes connected, and Fury nodded at him. Steve ignored him, changed gears and drove away.

The further they got from the hospital, the more the tension between his shoulders disappeared.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asked some minutes later, when they neared the freeway.

“Wherever we want,” Steve replied.

Bucky hummed. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon. That’s nearby right? I know you like to show me the sights.” Steve could hear the smile in his voice.

“Grand Canyon?” Steve echoed with a grin. He looked over to Bucky and almost lost his breath at the smile on his face. “Yeah, I can do that.”

*

Two days later, as Bucky sat between Steve’s legs along the rim of the Grand Canyon, the sun beginning to set, Steve asked, “Did you really volunteer to die for the vaccine?”

Bucky turned halfway in his arms to look at Steve. He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before he replied, “Yeah, I did. If my sacrifice could save thousands of people, I’d do it. And you would too.”

Steve stared at him. The wind blew his hair around and the sun illuminated strands of it to shine like gold. He thought about Bucky leaving Boston and doing everything he could to get to someone who could make a cure. Steve should have never doubted that Bucky was willing to die for it. He’d been willing the moment he agreed to leave with Fury.

Bucky wasn’t wrong either. Despite what he said to Fury, if given the chance, Steve would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat if it meant he could save everyone else from the virus.

“You know me too well,” Steve said finally.

Bucky beamed, causing Steve to smile as well. Steve pulled Bucky back into his chest and kissed his cheek.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

*

One month later, they were back in Yellowstone. Peggy welcomed them back with open arms and they easily settled into life there. The presence of HYDRA, though, nagged at the back of Steve’s mind every day.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked one night after they got into bed. “And don’t give me that ‘nothing’ bullshit.”

Steve stayed quieted as he tried to think of a good way to bring it up, but there was no good way of doing so. “HYDRA,” he said. “They’re still out there.”

Bucky rested his chin on Steve’s chest. “And you wanna go after them.”

Steve ran a hand through Bucky’s hair, recently cut again by Peggy and just brushing across his forehead. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Steve. Wherever you are, I’m there.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Steve said, smiling slightly.

Bucky pinched his side, and Steve flinched with a laugh. “Don’t be a dick. What’s your plan?”

“Who says I have a plan?”

Steve grinned as Bucky both rolled his eyes and off of Steve. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t have one.”

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“Dangerous is my middle name.”

“I didn’t know your name was James ‘Dangerous’ Barnes.”

Bucky groaned, “You’re the worst,” and turned over until his back was to Steve.

Steve spooned up behind him and began to tell him his plan.

*

Almost two years later, at HYDRA’s main settlement, Steve knocked down the door to the prison. Natasha and Sam cleared one side of the room and Steve and Bucky took the other. Once the room was cleared, Steve and Bucky began emptying the cells as Natasha and Sam ushered them to safety.

At the last one, Steve opened the door and Bucky helped the man out. They were halfway to the door when Steve recognized the man. He was bone thin, and his hair was streaked with gray, but it was him.

“Bruce?” he asked in shock.

The man looked up and as his eyes finally focused, he rasped, “Steve?”

Steve huffed, elated, as he rushed forward and pulled him into a gentle hug. Bruce felt frail in his arms. Steve pulled away and helped him out of the room.

Natasha and Sam had come back down to make sure all the rooms were cleared and came over to help Steve.

“Nat, it’s Bruce,” Steve said, gesturing to the man he was half-carrying. Natasha looked stunned, but her eyes brightened and a smile grew on her face when she looked closer at him.

“Hi, Nat,” Bruce said, softly. Natasha drew him away from Steve and into a gentle hug, too. She began murmuring to him as she and Sam helped him out.

“Who was that?” Bucky asked once they were gone.

“Bruce Banner,” Steve replied, still running on a high of finding his old friend. “He was there in the early days of SHIELD and went missing about three years in. He’s a biochemist and a nuclear physicist, we recruited him to…” He stopped, not wanting to complete the sentence.

“To what?”

Steve turned to Bucky and said, “Find a cure.”

Bucky looked shocked as he stood there quietly. He bit his lip and looked down for a second. “Does that mean…?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Steve rushed to say.

Bucky smiled humorlessly.

“Hey,” Steve said seriously as he grasped Bucky’s hands tightly in his. “Whatever happens is up to you, and whatever you decide, we’ll deal with it together.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Together?”

“‘Til the end of the line.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (And TLOU Part 2 never happens. The End.)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this fic!!! I really enjoyed translating the game into a Stucky fic, and I hope you enjoyed reading it, too. I purposely left the ending a bit ambiguous so that you can create your own thoughts on what should happen next, just like the game. 
> 
> Feel free to give me a shout on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bubbuhbucky) or [tumblr](https://bubbabuck.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!


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